tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13895438424505927082024-02-07T13:47:07.242-08:00porque si...Fotos de los viajes y las aventuras de una soñadora compulsiva. magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-67195931054000341162014-03-20T05:18:00.001-07:002014-03-20T05:23:45.851-07:00¿Qué te hace feliz?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">¡¡¡¡¡¡HOY ES EL DÍA INTERNACIONAL DE LA FELICIDAD!!!!!</span></b></div>
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En este mundo tan loco, donde siempre tenemos que estar planeando lo que hacemos, llenando la casa de listitas con quehaceres, cosas que comprar, trabajos que terminar, gente a quién llamar... donde pasa el tiempo y un día nos damos cuenta que nos pasamos una semana entera adentro de la oficina o la biblioteca estudiando y nos olvidamos que era el cumple del vecino o nos perdimos la reunión del grupo de amigos... donde prendemos la tele o leemos el diario y lo único que aparecen son conflictos, muertes, corrupción, maltrato, odio.... donde miramos el reloj seismil veces por día porque cada hora la tenemos organizada hasta el último segundo para no "perder" el tiempo cuando en realidad perder el tiempo es ir por la vida sin parar un poco para apreciarla....</div>
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No se si es este viaje en el cual estoy pasando mucho más tiempo sola que antes o si es que me estoy poniendo vieja y me gusta pensar en cosas "aburridas" y "serias" como la política, la naturaleza, Dios, el amor... pero la cuestión es que el otro día me empezó a dar vueltas en la cabeza un temita: la FELICIDAD.</div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">"La felicidad no es un destino, si no la actitud con la que se viaja por la vida"</span></b></i></div>
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He leído esa frase miles de veces y me la repito a menudo, pero estas últimas semanas la he tenido muy presente. Ese día que me puse a pensar en la felicidad (que seguramente estaba lloviendo en Santiago y yo andaba con pocas ganas de leer otro articulo más acerca del franquismo y de la transición a la democracia en España) decidí hacer una lista de todas las cosas que me hacen feliz - de las grandes y las chiquitas, las reales y las que solo existen en mi imaginación, las que ya tengo y las que espero algún día conseguir, las que nunca tendré, las que ya se fueron, las cosas que me dan fuerzas para seguir adelante y las que me sacan una simple sonrisa caminando por la calle.</div>
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La lista - que se sigue agrandando todos los días - es MUY larga, pero quería compartir algunas de esas cosas con ustedes. Más que nada porque creo que muchas de las cosas que a mi me hacen feliz hacen felices a muchas personas, pero no solemos prestarles atención. </div>
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No se si llamarle un ejercicio emocional o una reflexión o un síntoma de que me estoy volviendo un poco más loca de lo que estaba antes, pero el simple hecho de estar ATENTA a todas las cosas que me hacen feliz... me hace más feliz! Es como un circulo vicioso de cosas lindas :) </div>
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Así que los invito a que me acompañen! Es muy fácil.... durante el día, prestas atención a lo que te da alivio, te hace sentir seguro, lo que te da confianza, esperanza, lo bello, lo rico, lo que te hace sonreír... </div>
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Acá van algunas de las cosas en mi listita FELIZ :)</div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">1. ** LAS FLORES COLORINCHUDAS**</span></b></i><br />
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Que más lindo que ver las primeras flores de la primavera cuando todavía hace frío!?</div>
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Personalmente, siendo una persona que tiene una relación muy complicada con el invierno y el frío, ver un poco de color y saber que ya se viene el calorcito me puede cambiar el humor de un momento a otro con una raídez sorprendente. </div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">2. **LAS HOJAS DEL OTOÑO**</span></b></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5eAz8m1cZriOePnSR6sf0O2bwSkTNML4s6jvwHF_omg4HiadQgYBcjPEnkJ0-eLoDKH2aDTLZ2iQDoAseJG5PhryRDZkyKTBbMBb5Nia9JQzzsrXhToK8vW0zj-najOHXsq_ex-Hhrk/s1600/hojas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5eAz8m1cZriOePnSR6sf0O2bwSkTNML4s6jvwHF_omg4HiadQgYBcjPEnkJ0-eLoDKH2aDTLZ2iQDoAseJG5PhryRDZkyKTBbMBb5Nia9JQzzsrXhToK8vW0zj-najOHXsq_ex-Hhrk/s1600/hojas.JPG" height="350" width="400" /></a></div>
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Aclaro por si no se entendió bien... las hojas del otoño, NO el frío que anuncian!</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3. **SACAR FOTOS**</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tlaquepaque, México</td></tr>
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¿Por qué? Porque me entretiene, me hace ver las cosas de una manera distinta, prestarles más atención y darme cuenta de detalles que de lo contrario no hubiera visto.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNhiYOtzuH8oXywM1cY5kPzf4VHHQE4yibM2drFlRruql8Ned6Uy3hFJRtCxuPLaF9_zV-Ym85EJqm9H2MYBdMwoOLd2hWwB9JY4ZRa4mAlfBmYHBIehhOXQN1seetyF35296V7W7F3s/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNhiYOtzuH8oXywM1cY5kPzf4VHHQE4yibM2drFlRruql8Ned6Uy3hFJRtCxuPLaF9_zV-Ym85EJqm9H2MYBdMwoOLd2hWwB9JY4ZRa4mAlfBmYHBIehhOXQN1seetyF35296V7W7F3s/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG" height="262" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murchison Falls, Uganda</td></tr>
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Me gusta sacarle fotos a todo, pero más que nada...<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4. **SACARLE FOTOS A GENTE QUE NO CONOZCO,</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"> SIN QUE SE DE CUENTA**</span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPe0h_z3nncuTwU8W6_UHMVScS-isHYZQand13ZzqSoihLfvvQdtMiHJcXSvyZdFvc62Kv50yFixGNBArRjMTyU8jOMH0lfkqaGHvlYW1aXPftvuBu7nVhJs0QghpP0ypioZVUKGF6Iw/s1600/fotos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPe0h_z3nncuTwU8W6_UHMVScS-isHYZQand13ZzqSoihLfvvQdtMiHJcXSvyZdFvc62Kv50yFixGNBArRjMTyU8jOMH0lfkqaGHvlYW1aXPftvuBu7nVhJs0QghpP0ypioZVUKGF6Iw/s1600/fotos.JPG" height="385" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mazamitla, Jalisco, México</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mityana, Uganda</td></tr>
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Hay veces que me siento como un paparazzi y me pone nerviosa pensar que me van a decir algo o se van a ofender si se dan cuenta que hay una cámara apuntándoles (porque me ha pasado!)... pero las fotos que más me gustan son justamente de gente que no sabe que esta siendo vista a través de un lente.</div>
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Sin poses, ni arreglos, ni "sacame otra que no me gusto esa" las fotos salen mucho más lindas :) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVlS9ZkDeDe3xWNyaDuoWe_aEt8g9m0Ew7vUY3ENmhh4W9ypS9tqJ9GEdSyRboztX1lCEv7N2xy4dNXH28fJqyGpt-6gDFQBHg8CZY1V44g43kO09v8hSHduISjxo5ahGZCtELbR7Ur4/s1600/l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVlS9ZkDeDe3xWNyaDuoWe_aEt8g9m0Ew7vUY3ENmhh4W9ypS9tqJ9GEdSyRboztX1lCEv7N2xy4dNXH28fJqyGpt-6gDFQBHg8CZY1V44g43kO09v8hSHduISjxo5ahGZCtELbR7Ur4/s1600/l.jpg" height="400" width="327" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baker Beach, San Francisco</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">5. **UNA RICA ENSALADA**</span></b></div>
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No, no soy vegetariana! Pero cualquier día, a cualquier hora me comería una ensalada común o de frutas. Hasta ahora no hay fruta ni verdura que no me guste y si tuviera más lugar en la mini-mini heladera que tengo en Santiago las compraría todas!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TAh1Ys6tGsdEfc-_Stjm6k3kxqwIETT8qba6Fv5Ogw7jSTvDC3VzIIn6jNdfEQHWdqZrSsZj1YdTs1hcfyYe5PrZFNPlQ_qbixIpjSovfGuw7cuDFbuXsGQ3p6aXYkZKHAtnOgN1R5g/s1600/IMG_3018.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TAh1Ys6tGsdEfc-_Stjm6k3kxqwIETT8qba6Fv5Ogw7jSTvDC3VzIIn6jNdfEQHWdqZrSsZj1YdTs1hcfyYe5PrZFNPlQ_qbixIpjSovfGuw7cuDFbuXsGQ3p6aXYkZKHAtnOgN1R5g/s1600/IMG_3018.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">6. **SUBIRME A UN LUGAR ALTO Y PASARME UN LARGO RATO APRECIANDO EL PAISAJE**</span></b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXeONr4W-qcYm-LmMOieURcVky-sIkmdLlxy7qrZdulSqbJNYaEsLcTzi7ltNNUwYYewd47Yzch0Y2SijD2cuscXlVc1-Gzj2xZiQk4ZBck2dTL6XKSO5H5_beMDKlV1Gw7G2OGOVTOY/s1600/IMG_9450+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXeONr4W-qcYm-LmMOieURcVky-sIkmdLlxy7qrZdulSqbJNYaEsLcTzi7ltNNUwYYewd47Yzch0Y2SijD2cuscXlVc1-Gzj2xZiQk4ZBck2dTL6XKSO5H5_beMDKlV1Gw7G2OGOVTOY/s1600/IMG_9450+-+Copy.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Los alrededores del Lago Wamala, Uganda</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFEZi9FbngPULbMxlbggCYBa9xnQ6jJhE0rd5gTByK8EB0335PRlDMQTIP8oFPTZcGvqIBRu4ZYNTqX4pbKD7Vb1pVe77n8wiIK6VuFrm8ELl3POmmO0BPLzUO4KLyRXEBNXhCl6ml8I/s1600/IMG_6624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFEZi9FbngPULbMxlbggCYBa9xnQ6jJhE0rd5gTByK8EB0335PRlDMQTIP8oFPTZcGvqIBRu4ZYNTqX4pbKD7Vb1pVe77n8wiIK6VuFrm8ELl3POmmO0BPLzUO4KLyRXEBNXhCl6ml8I/s1600/IMG_6624.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Tamalpais, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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No tengo mucho que decir sobre este, simplemente me da paz estar ante una vista linda y grande, no se muy bien por qué.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnScXuXxGR41td-UIUwium1GWS0ChDqarPSdVVtnu1LJzMRYxyiwZX6vB627OYJ81xWy_Bks4iHnvF5zNvmhCJc8UnJV-qpcHC7uWyh9F1ZdoasnhFh29UCXsem7h5PGnFcoyHSDfY144/s1600/paisajes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnScXuXxGR41td-UIUwium1GWS0ChDqarPSdVVtnu1LJzMRYxyiwZX6vB627OYJ81xWy_Bks4iHnvF5zNvmhCJc8UnJV-qpcHC7uWyh9F1ZdoasnhFh29UCXsem7h5PGnFcoyHSDfY144/s1600/paisajes.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El monte atrás de mi casa en Marin, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">7. **VIAJAR**</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeZHmROcEos5GQr-zkSHx51ArH66BoTHLmCLKVPyJEyhRXldoUMUrScrkPUnpWmGB3jSZZHnxGV4_5TvGb3kp1_E6eoJ9QXF_mIgFXdywnMPpU8GsjSZz5VVKucyHymFrFabq5khKnyg/s1600/viajar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeZHmROcEos5GQr-zkSHx51ArH66BoTHLmCLKVPyJEyhRXldoUMUrScrkPUnpWmGB3jSZZHnxGV4_5TvGb3kp1_E6eoJ9QXF_mIgFXdywnMPpU8GsjSZz5VVKucyHymFrFabq5khKnyg/s1600/viajar.jpg" height="400" width="257" /></a></div>
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Esta es una de esas "cosas grandes" que me hacen feliz. No es como la ensalada, no voy a poder viajar todos los días de mi vida, pero las fotos de un viaje, las amistades a la distancia, lo aprendido y lo vivido son recuerdos que no desaparecen y siempre me sacan sonrisas.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">8. **LAS AMISTADES Y LOS AMORES QUE PERDURAN A TRAVÉS DEL TIEMPO**</span></b></div>
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No se por qué, pero últimamente (y me refiero a las últimas dos semanas!) me he encontrado con viejitos, amigos o en pareja, caminando por la calle. Y en todas las ocasiones yo termino justo atrás. Sobra decir que mi instinto de paparazzi se va por las nubes y no tengo más remedio pretender tomar una foto del piso o mandar un mensaje con el celular mientras que les saco una foto a ellos. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR-kqYezY8DVtbcqNJcLADq-0G84qQqA_jD4eMfkTz-XvvzFig9PbsY3YTAJrgOwzX4QC1DUWOqcHOaKKX0tZDoUMEtjaLOtRpND70ZGR1wO-KZwjmjJ4rcVAD758wXppHk2KEjWT4jc/s1600/IMG_9391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR-kqYezY8DVtbcqNJcLADq-0G84qQqA_jD4eMfkTz-XvvzFig9PbsY3YTAJrgOwzX4QC1DUWOqcHOaKKX0tZDoUMEtjaLOtRpND70ZGR1wO-KZwjmjJ4rcVAD758wXppHk2KEjWT4jc/s1600/IMG_9391.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santiago de Compostela</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPs-qMeBOnRot2qqOCiE3RZWaApk4moOWxZOJ0T5gGVA6Qqr-P7SZs23YQqoQz0ufx_kicGqaq1L1gASGzNJjWvO8CsJKI4uDu6CL0Cnu8FiERSz8qFBeL5ooSPA3HtoQJulBZ3mrWrE4/s1600/IMG_8927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPs-qMeBOnRot2qqOCiE3RZWaApk4moOWxZOJ0T5gGVA6Qqr-P7SZs23YQqoQz0ufx_kicGqaq1L1gASGzNJjWvO8CsJKI4uDu6CL0Cnu8FiERSz8qFBeL5ooSPA3HtoQJulBZ3mrWrE4/s1600/IMG_8927.JPG" height="400" width="335" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barcelona</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAudlgD8d2wTs2s_vTRlyCdk-V-FS0pukTcv-IgAGoqEp3xY1JFxraci3kHXs3tpiD8lxwYh6WWE8ew5VBkNhKj3GI_H043iJNbdcxmE7fDla8Jo_WfKLMVrSg3MFfXRnJtMYht3s9W8/s1600/IMG_9612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAudlgD8d2wTs2s_vTRlyCdk-V-FS0pukTcv-IgAGoqEp3xY1JFxraci3kHXs3tpiD8lxwYh6WWE8ew5VBkNhKj3GI_H043iJNbdcxmE7fDla8Jo_WfKLMVrSg3MFfXRnJtMYht3s9W8/s1600/IMG_9612.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madrid</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"> 9. **LAS CALLES ARBOLADAS QUE HACEN UN TECHITO PERO QUE IGUAL DEJAN PASAR AL SOL**</span></b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWwd_sl_o1V7YyLlhBg389oFly1R6epb-F0w1HbqdbKs_S9MCiqqC1E2_tYA8FkgWCliLDSgGg0ZLOxaIqW2pSUaulhfI-Zb0zTu1W33kA3F7-aEEkxgLv1DNLQSWsJixENdaoLTXJY4/s1600/IMG_8475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWwd_sl_o1V7YyLlhBg389oFly1R6epb-F0w1HbqdbKs_S9MCiqqC1E2_tYA8FkgWCliLDSgGg0ZLOxaIqW2pSUaulhfI-Zb0zTu1W33kA3F7-aEEkxgLv1DNLQSWsJixENdaoLTXJY4/s1600/IMG_8475.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santiago de Compostela</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Esa es la clave. Las ramas se tienen que tocar arriba y que el piso quede con sol y sombra. El día que me compre una casa quiero que tenga mucha luz, muchas ventanas, un jardín y que la calle sea así.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNV5Rd9_h4PilUOoX6_JO8FxipK6cWlKYa48NkBtpsLJoYLS0XO26_Y3eeuLoIgCNWRybkm9xmVcumo85bn4Owh4gKpgCvW-Xb9iJhoJEEIT5ubgmvPfkxVSCq2GpkuzJiigb1VvMqcv8/s1600/IMG_2382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNV5Rd9_h4PilUOoX6_JO8FxipK6cWlKYa48NkBtpsLJoYLS0XO26_Y3eeuLoIgCNWRybkm9xmVcumo85bn4Owh4gKpgCvW-Xb9iJhoJEEIT5ubgmvPfkxVSCq2GpkuzJiigb1VvMqcv8/s1600/IMG_2382.JPG" height="385" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bodega Bay, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">10. **EL SOL**</span></b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tOYfdvCtynJMl9dpch-vVY3ssw82Q7mfnKLoRm5v5q5xmdOC2pHOPjr6T_34TZuOiw0kWJ0UjSE8UEPPYHEm2C9G-gpqU4EpYAfkqP4tXy2qwZLK_82-HX-84qcjt-K9VOVp7hvoZf8/s1600/IMG_9632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tOYfdvCtynJMl9dpch-vVY3ssw82Q7mfnKLoRm5v5q5xmdOC2pHOPjr6T_34TZuOiw0kWJ0UjSE8UEPPYHEm2C9G-gpqU4EpYAfkqP4tXy2qwZLK_82-HX-84qcjt-K9VOVp7hvoZf8/s1600/IMG_9632.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siestando el primer día de sol en Santiago... o sea la semana pasada.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Tengo una leve obsesión con nuestro querido amigo brillante en el cielo. De todas las cosas en esta corta lista, el sol es lo que me hace más, más feliz. Los que me conocen saben que odio las cortinas, las persianas y cualquier otra cosa que se ponga en frente de una ventana. Para mi no existe mejor manera de empezar el día que despertarse con los rayos del sol.</div>
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Y dado que desde que estoy en Santiago cuento con los dedos de las manos las veces que he visto el sol, mi amor por el él ha aumentado dramáticamente. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3geFOKSOehRxJgbfyKaIx6-it_Kai9QiZYJKls6IOVqOqvnUcIm_m8tfLNOX9AfzQ-INs-A30FaaQRhd8BPm9myFMWrhTv_PlwvFkofZWXBbvhw5Pg2GaAmyLOvO5ZCF-_cTPPDWzac/s1600/IMG_7796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3geFOKSOehRxJgbfyKaIx6-it_Kai9QiZYJKls6IOVqOqvnUcIm_m8tfLNOX9AfzQ-INs-A30FaaQRhd8BPm9myFMWrhTv_PlwvFkofZWXBbvhw5Pg2GaAmyLOvO5ZCF-_cTPPDWzac/s1600/IMG_7796.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colonia, Uruguay</td></tr>
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Les deseo a todos un MUY FELIZ día :)</div>
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-6349767986311367032013-10-18T00:17:00.002-07:002013-10-18T00:17:19.819-07:00Norte y Sur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pqug-PlnWG23KdiMHHKvnXPtSe8zUEnzz2L-2Jm-yS2UMOfPMO_s3ejgQdhY24PR1rlIMY27OyIAeCJsuoHAz9rkR-33aWji5l_aqjh9OQrkSUD_YvBMhbvWOYSksCkWVPwoCcAFB2M/s1600/Fitipaldi_M_En+la+Ciudad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pqug-PlnWG23KdiMHHKvnXPtSe8zUEnzz2L-2Jm-yS2UMOfPMO_s3ejgQdhY24PR1rlIMY27OyIAeCJsuoHAz9rkR-33aWji5l_aqjh9OQrkSUD_YvBMhbvWOYSksCkWVPwoCcAFB2M/s640/Fitipaldi_M_En+la+Ciudad.jpg" width="432" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Esta foto
la saqué en el centro de Guadalajara, unos días después de llegar este pasado
junio. Guadalajara es una ciudad de 1,5
millones de habitantes, por ende las chances de ver a la misma persona más de
una vez durante las dos semanas que estuve eran minúsculas. Pero resulta que la mujer que se ve a la
derecha con el niño a upa fue la misma que se sentó al lado mío en el avión
desde San Francisco. Vivían en el Area de la Bahía y ahora ella iba con su
marido y su hijo a visitar a su familia que todavía no conocía al pequeño.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-UY">El niño no
entendía mucho español, entonces la madre le traducía lo que le decía su abuela
y su tía, y él respondía en inglés. Pero eso no parecía importarle a ninguna de
ellas, él entretenía a las mujeres con sus carcajadas mientras que correteaba
detrás de las palomas en la plaza. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-UY">Sin
embargo, parece que sus parientes no eran las únicas entretenidas con este
pequeño... la mujer con el balde, por alguna razón, se lo quedó mirando también.
Como muestra la foto, la mujer esta está vestida de una manera distinta, quizás
nosotros la llamaríamos campesina. Esta
señora es del sur de México, la parte más pobre del país. Antes de este viaje
yo pensaba que la migración de la gente mexicana era solo a EEUU, al
"Norte" como le dicen. Pero
resulta que mucha gente de los estados del sur emigra al norte del país.
Durante mi estadía la presencia de mujeres del sur fue muy notoria. Algunas, como esta señora, llevan una
vestimenta más tradicional, trabajan de mucamas o venden artesanías en el
centro y en los lugares turísticos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-UY">El
contraste de esta foto me impresiona cada vez que la veo. La imagen de la mujer del norte parece sacada
de algún folleto de promoción turística: La familia unida, feliz y contenta
disfruta de un paseo por el centro con un niño encantador y seguramente muchas
charlas de por medio tras tantos años sin verse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-UY">Pero la
señora del sur, a quien no se le ve la cara, me deja llena de preguntas. Que lleva en el balde? Ella mira a la familia
del norte, será que dejo a sus propios hijos y parientes en el sur para luchar
por un futuro mejor en Guadalajara? O estará simplemente admirando la simpatía
del niño? Hace cuanto se fue? De que vive?
Parece estar apurada, pero algo de lo que vio la hizo aminorar el paso y
voltear la mirada… qué? Se me ocurren
miles de razones, y miles más de historias de vida para darle a esta mujer del
sur sin rostro ni nombre. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-UY">Qué será de
estas dos historias ahora? No se. Seguramente ninguna de ellas recuerde de este
preciso momento, pero por un instante, en esta imagen, sus vidas se cruzaron...
y ahora yo me paso ratos mirándolas, inventándole vidas a dos desconocidas que vi un
día en el centro de Guadalajara.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-50246737841149720392013-07-30T20:54:00.000-07:002013-07-30T20:54:21.685-07:00Una Navidad Compartida<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Niños del barrio 1ero de Mayo, Montevideo, Uruguay.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Navidad 2012</div>
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-50400436548224377212013-04-30T23:06:00.001-07:002013-04-30T23:06:14.708-07:00MayFeelings Cumple 1 Año!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Feliz cumpleaños MayFeelings!</div>
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Santiago, Bosco y Joaquín: GRACIAS!<br />
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Gracias por crear por fin una red social con un fin tan noble y generoso.</div>
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Gracias por darnos la oportunidad de sentirnos en comunidad a travez de la oración con gente desconocida, que está del otro lado del mundo.</div>
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Gracias por ayudarnos a todos a despegarnos un poquito de nuestros problemas diarios, nuestras preocupaciones y anhelos, para tomarnos el tiempo de pensar en los demás y rezar por ellos.</div>
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Gracias por crear un espacio por el cual podemos expresar esas preocupaciones que tenemos, y sentirnos tan apoyados y queridos por los que rezan por nuestras peticiones.</div>
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Gracias por recordarnos una vez más nuestro rol como Cristianos y nuestro compromiso con los demás.</div>
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Y Gracias por hacer tan visible el poder de la oración.</div>
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-Magda :)</div>
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-13114773627043471822013-04-01T20:33:00.000-07:002013-04-01T20:33:05.603-07:00Carnaval en Tijuana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqloVJfRuAiM00CQgIcMsbz9J2941RtFI2DCL-GQloaK7qH-VxoUnYVh9wXuBQ8YxOR0A4DJkcjdnmC2LxvAXObz69UPRFh0a-7vVTJJYA0-STaf5o13njLY3MxE6bMhhHp28vh5wiU7g/s1600/IMG_6804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqloVJfRuAiM00CQgIcMsbz9J2941RtFI2DCL-GQloaK7qH-VxoUnYVh9wXuBQ8YxOR0A4DJkcjdnmC2LxvAXObz69UPRFh0a-7vVTJJYA0-STaf5o13njLY3MxE6bMhhHp28vh5wiU7g/s640/IMG_6804.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here are some of the photographs of the children of Tijuana! There are more on the Facebook page, which you can view by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">clicking here</a>!</div>
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Acá están algunas de las fotos de los niños que conocimos en Tijuana! Para ver más fotos, entren a la página de Facebook, haciendo <a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">click acá</a>!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfZ1gWqI4oPKtk1mxK8uFUK4UxX3XxwCFAaxfR_M84X52lkEs0AwA-n24puQRrIMEX1K28hrQqm_jxxQsDPQ3HVBnWxHiH37UXIciv-7bws_wCkNdCdUTVsDAjavBcSZJsNSkqD3Cs2k/s1600/IMG_6872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfZ1gWqI4oPKtk1mxK8uFUK4UxX3XxwCFAaxfR_M84X52lkEs0AwA-n24puQRrIMEX1K28hrQqm_jxxQsDPQ3HVBnWxHiH37UXIciv-7bws_wCkNdCdUTVsDAjavBcSZJsNSkqD3Cs2k/s640/IMG_6872.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Con los tres pares de mellizos!</td></tr>
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-46497412576524141762013-03-22T22:49:00.000-07:002013-03-22T22:51:28.563-07:00Tijuana - una ciudad con un encanto distinto.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hace una semana, tuve la gran oportunidad de viajar a Tijuana, Mexico con un grupo de la facultad. <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> Cruzamos la frontera en auto y nos quedamos en el centro de la ciudad, en un hogar que se llama Casa de los Pobres. Aquí, las hermanas Franciscanas de Nuestra Señora de la Paz le sirven comida a unas 1.000 personas por día, regalan canastas de alimentos, ropa, y ofrecen servicios médicos en una pequeña clínica donde doctores voluntarios donan su tiempo para el bien de muchos. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gracias a la Madre Gene...<a href="http://on.fb.me/106WrX4">http://on.fb.me/106WrX4</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luchador con una vida dificil... <a href="http://on.fb.me/YLwf1H">http://on.fb.me/YLwf1H</a></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nosotros ayudamos a servir el desayuno todas las mañanas, repartimos ropa y canastas de alimentos y llevamos muchas donaciones. Para los niños llevamos casi cerca de 100 cepillos de dientes y pasta; quedaron chochos!</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">También visitamos Colonia Esperanza (una colonia es como un barrio) donde una hermana dominica, Madre Gene, construyó un centro comunitario en el año 1986. Al llegar a la Colonia, Madre Gene se dió cuenta que el barrio estaba muy apartado y lejos de la Casa de los Pobres y la gente no podía obtener los beneficios que brindaba. Emprendedora y trabajadora, la Madre Gene no perdió tiempo alguno y creó el centro llamado Domingo Guzman, en honor a la orden de las dominicas. Allí tiene un salón para enseñar inglés, y una pequeña clínica con un médico voluntario que, cansado de trabajar en el Departamento de la Salud del Estado de Tijuana, brinda su servicios pro bono a la comunidad. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">El último día de nuestra estadía hicimos una fiesta para todos los niños de Colonia Esperanza. No puedo explicar en palabras lo divertido que fue ese día, ni lo hermosos que eran los niños, pero espero que las fotos les den una idea. Para ellos voy a crear una entrada distinta, en breve la subo.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">En fin, fue una experiencia inolvidable. Tijuana es un lugar realmente hermoso. Quizas no por los lujos, ni por las grandes construcciones, ni por la riqueza que hace lucir a muchos otros lugares del mundo, si no por la gente humilde, trabajadora, alegre, agradecida, respetuosa, simpatíca, digna, encantadora y ejemplar que tiene. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Es un encanto distinto -- Humano. Y eso, lo hace un lugar mucho mas lindo. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sobra decir que a Tijuana voy a volver.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Acá les dejo el sitio de Casa de los Pobres. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Y más información sobre el trabajo de la Madre Gene en Colonia Esperanza. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">Para ver todas las fotos hagan <a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">click acá</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">Como siempre, gracias por visitar el blog,</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">Magda :)</a>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-11704739429080120732013-02-14T20:22:00.003-08:002013-02-14T20:22:21.426-08:00ONE in a BILLION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Why do I rise to end violence against women?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because I am a </span><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">WOMAN</span></b><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are the ones that give birth to our </span><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">CHILDREN</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLEH0MoAuoXKqzIDP6MyIahgAvIDr0fpZvcTW2r87u3WTHThUIuxLe_UJsmC-06B_IMjd8Ag_osbHIOWBZ6H1ntpHTyKBuEj1-6rPF0imU1Oxh7dr8iA5zepj2BRZJGEYpDZqDuZfVV8A/s1600/IMG_0629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLEH0MoAuoXKqzIDP6MyIahgAvIDr0fpZvcTW2r87u3WTHThUIuxLe_UJsmC-06B_IMjd8Ag_osbHIOWBZ6H1ntpHTyKBuEj1-6rPF0imU1Oxh7dr8iA5zepj2BRZJGEYpDZqDuZfVV8A/s640/IMG_0629.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are daughters... mothers... aunts...cousins... athletes... students... teachers...doctors... politicians... </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">FRIENDS</span></b>.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzmAVOgS_T41o-52JpoA1Mfxgv2IIHg4bmylo92ZBx-Lu3eAFj2iH3OnzIT7fupSR4Z6fNcyYoTPmrYD5voTogPHG-Sx6dhQW73xzs-l8gIKEwc1IrPRCqaAkfpGvTXhv0XzUhYxEVBY/s1600/IMG_1317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzmAVOgS_T41o-52JpoA1Mfxgv2IIHg4bmylo92ZBx-Lu3eAFj2iH3OnzIT7fupSR4Z6fNcyYoTPmrYD5voTogPHG-Sx6dhQW73xzs-l8gIKEwc1IrPRCqaAkfpGvTXhv0XzUhYxEVBY/s640/IMG_1317.JPG" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are a </span><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">COMMUNITY</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">... and we have to fight </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">TOGETHER</span></b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmhAd25lUNTRrB1o0v7EFuOhizZIY58wwa3VMIF9LsPHMc18rNyWxoEFsj9O5aoNK0PZy70LpPDwM1HbcCfpzfClSsIkUEjF_GMDxL4fYLZLb1lUYe15QtgLon9gkhEPNRK2kHhgn8p0/s1600/IMG_4703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmhAd25lUNTRrB1o0v7EFuOhizZIY58wwa3VMIF9LsPHMc18rNyWxoEFsj9O5aoNK0PZy70LpPDwM1HbcCfpzfClSsIkUEjF_GMDxL4fYLZLb1lUYe15QtgLon9gkhEPNRK2kHhgn8p0/s640/IMG_4703.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Because among us is Mary the mother of God, Rosa Parks, Eve Ensler, Mother Teresa</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">... and millions more of silent </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">HEROINES</span></b>. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6V3XlExB9Z1ZP9NLlBdt92sJq8HmDFXwtxYBMC7QKIpWS2-vIF5C06_m8UP7DGdCHMG82ysH4hCEO9Y_wRlyXRJNVqevfawIx8AsArZloV7FsAQbkhNateDhjtwVbAm-ngOdPkJipOI/s1600/IMG_0169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6V3XlExB9Z1ZP9NLlBdt92sJq8HmDFXwtxYBMC7QKIpWS2-vIF5C06_m8UP7DGdCHMG82ysH4hCEO9Y_wRlyXRJNVqevfawIx8AsArZloV7FsAQbkhNateDhjtwVbAm-ngOdPkJipOI/s640/IMG_0169.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">TIRED</span></b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because the violence needs to </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b>.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibypxtYuJ1sm8qmAabovyHHGzAURHFsPbXw6jAwqLFsvJ-C43ZUBEznZO_q1zYyEstzhvI__7LAU7NSjKqrpOppCNwr64owkXGpNZv6fNBAr9GEkc4sdrM6j4nL5gcxiaYlqIquxYCOYM/s1600/IMG_4751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibypxtYuJ1sm8qmAabovyHHGzAURHFsPbXw6jAwqLFsvJ-C43ZUBEznZO_q1zYyEstzhvI__7LAU7NSjKqrpOppCNwr64owkXGpNZv6fNBAr9GEkc4sdrM6j4nL5gcxiaYlqIquxYCOYM/s640/IMG_4751.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Anyone see the heart shape in the center?!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">SEXY</span></b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because God </span><b><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">LOVES</span> </span></b><span style="font-size: large;">us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we </span><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">all of us</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">HAPPY </span></b><span style="font-size: large;">and </span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b>FREE</b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3b7h6EafMuDRzCfsEXA42QmmdIvAJYSusAnEtCEa28LS5oaPp1t1wBC35giICFq2MUAzjq1aymrNYoDvpBpetk8_2VAVuwlo_qA8Hix_HoeyRbuzVipe7m1BwWRpT0e8uvud8elbQ07k/s1600/IMG_0351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3b7h6EafMuDRzCfsEXA42QmmdIvAJYSusAnEtCEa28LS5oaPp1t1wBC35giICFq2MUAzjq1aymrNYoDvpBpetk8_2VAVuwlo_qA8Hix_HoeyRbuzVipe7m1BwWRpT0e8uvud8elbQ07k/s400/IMG_0351.JPG" width="308" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAhzFvXAeXuryS7dLS_w1rPgkhaYNds6rkuLZfYfzRfOnQLetIcrjV66bsAmh5ZjRWxFGt3VyL0MW-mANqNdUrIPm2Z_3bAvFdY5Mw9axf_ScqP8B_Afp4JdlEyZbT4Kd8KaAKbIP2Yg/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAhzFvXAeXuryS7dLS_w1rPgkhaYNds6rkuLZfYfzRfOnQLetIcrjV66bsAmh5ZjRWxFGt3VyL0MW-mANqNdUrIPm2Z_3bAvFdY5Mw9axf_ScqP8B_Afp4JdlEyZbT4Kd8KaAKbIP2Yg/s400/IMG_0330.JPG" width="266" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we are simply </span><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">PHENOMENAL...</span></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqB80UcPpnwE4uJWryxu-Sm_vFXBIatD_9Fw5FtZuos1Lth-xm5mZcqAsBeB_IPRWSWfZmKnh-pVhDeqav6YvE-lVTW9fNwr50aXXMag05BRlWXdMgbS0lL50p8DBDEkm8YhaKA8FtrI/s1600/IMG_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqB80UcPpnwE4uJWryxu-Sm_vFXBIatD_9Fw5FtZuos1Lth-xm5mZcqAsBeB_IPRWSWfZmKnh-pVhDeqav6YvE-lVTW9fNwr50aXXMag05BRlWXdMgbS0lL50p8DBDEkm8YhaKA8FtrI/s640/IMG_0209.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But when I start to tell them,</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">They think I'm telling lies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I say,</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It's in the reach of my arms</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The span of my hips,</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The stride of my step,</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The curl of my lips.</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I'm a woman</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Phenomenally.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Phenomenal woman,</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large;">That's </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">me</span></b><span style="color: #333333;">.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAofopf7LvyYCccEZxmB6ORk73fu1gpmXnvRhougOqqHAOx2O9-mil7omiSsIi6PdzTmPIy-8vYLJouWCkPY0hB0yEzIqVhpP2aQpWwXeyTjWVNCfEBiDTvPOE69cHOWCe4fXROifYLU/s1600/IMG_0167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAofopf7LvyYCccEZxmB6ORk73fu1gpmXnvRhougOqqHAOx2O9-mil7omiSsIi6PdzTmPIy-8vYLJouWCkPY0hB0yEzIqVhpP2aQpWwXeyTjWVNCfEBiDTvPOE69cHOWCe4fXROifYLU/s640/IMG_0167.JPG" width="552" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I walk into a room</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Just as cool as you please,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">And to a man,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The fellows stand or</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Fall down on their knees.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Then they swarm around me,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">A hive of honey bees.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I say,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">It's the fire in my eyes,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">And the flash of my teeth,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The swing in my waist,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">And the joy in my feet.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I'm a woman</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenally.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenal woman,</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large;">That's </span><b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">me.</span></b></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX1gVaRGSKcbTRLudw-CimX0QB5FaSQBGPrN_FUGeCI2qsuO4GQ5c1L3AGJgCsTuQ5s1PRyJIBdDrqYzLIuM5YwBcOaoV0FqPt9lmmJfGIGChXInrObiY7ANyl3hcajwc-wIyPP_xoUrY/s1600/IMG_4732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX1gVaRGSKcbTRLudw-CimX0QB5FaSQBGPrN_FUGeCI2qsuO4GQ5c1L3AGJgCsTuQ5s1PRyJIBdDrqYzLIuM5YwBcOaoV0FqPt9lmmJfGIGChXInrObiY7ANyl3hcajwc-wIyPP_xoUrY/s640/IMG_4732.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Men themselves have wondered</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">What they see in me.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">They try so much</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">But they can't touch</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">My inner mystery.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">When I try to show them</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">They say they still can't see.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I say,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">It's in the arch of my back,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The sun of my smile,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The ride of my breasts,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The grace of my style.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I'm a woman</span></div>
</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenally.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenal woman,</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-size: large;">That's</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b>me</b>.</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxr39j03D91JwbEjLBVt_NBZ2pDS5lP0ZT-4tJDOTV6UwkvtlTmZBpwDl93son3fykdmBZpq6SYbzlMXSxjyb4-AYE56SHDTOfoifPDJ6L99RovGistdnC2sIaLXWUaxDVWkhpVdk4-Y/s1600/IMG_9905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxr39j03D91JwbEjLBVt_NBZ2pDS5lP0ZT-4tJDOTV6UwkvtlTmZBpwDl93son3fykdmBZpq6SYbzlMXSxjyb4-AYE56SHDTOfoifPDJ6L99RovGistdnC2sIaLXWUaxDVWkhpVdk4-Y/s640/IMG_9905.JPG" width="446" /></a></div>
</span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Now you understand</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Just why my head's not bowed.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I don't shout or jump about</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Or have to talk real loud.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">When you see me passing</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">It ought to make you proud.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">I say,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 1.5;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's in the click of my heels,</span></span></div>
<div class="KonaBody" style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The bend of my hair,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">the palm of my hand,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The need of my care,</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">'Cause I'm a woman</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenally.</span></div>
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Phenomenal woman,</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: large;">That's </span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b>me.</b></span></span><span style="line-height: 1.5;"><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b> </b></span></span></div>
</span></span></div>
<div class="poet" itemprop="author" style="background-color: white; margin: 22px 0px 25px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">-Maya Angelou</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9FpIBsAkznoPTedrOALmmNEfZ5xXs2bIJ9kF-hg4KYV47I9bRMWaVdq8UCvxZYUkyDW_L5nQ09y6Ic-pn5Zq0kWmLLZqY8dAH8G_FHtbopGaL9WeH3Eb4GRO8ItXZ1ZIyGYRI9rz6VM/s1600/IMG_9961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9FpIBsAkznoPTedrOALmmNEfZ5xXs2bIJ9kF-hg4KYV47I9bRMWaVdq8UCvxZYUkyDW_L5nQ09y6Ic-pn5Zq0kWmLLZqY8dAH8G_FHtbopGaL9WeH3Eb4GRO8ItXZ1ZIyGYRI9rz6VM/s640/IMG_9961.JPG" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<br />magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-11515911287222087542012-12-01T15:39:00.001-08:002012-12-01T15:39:12.107-08:00Los pájaros también se van de compras!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-r8Mn1cN7JlkAT_I4eYZSGA5dYI5eR0cvu8FXCQf0bKTGFYA5ZEg68wAEwJVsizTx_TN1icdv21h6V6tcGhYNRJcUWwv-NkKl3vp6LJ2mp2HRFo9tnVCR0_MGu1Przs_UaESb-vK_vJE/s1600/IMG_3296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-r8Mn1cN7JlkAT_I4eYZSGA5dYI5eR0cvu8FXCQf0bKTGFYA5ZEg68wAEwJVsizTx_TN1icdv21h6V6tcGhYNRJcUWwv-NkKl3vp6LJ2mp2HRFo9tnVCR0_MGu1Przs_UaESb-vK_vJE/s640/IMG_3296.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hasta me saludo y todo!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Este semestre, con los estudios, trabajos, reuniones, y demás he tenido muy poco tiempo para salir a sacar fotos! Tengo muchas ganas de ir a buscar un lugar nuevo y pasarme todo el día ahí con la cámara, pero no me dan los horarios! :( En una semana me voy a Uruguay a pasar las fiestas y llevo mi querida cámara, así que van a poder ver un poquito de mi hermoso paisito cuando vuelva! Pero como para eso falta todavia, les quería mostrar unas del otro día que salieron buenas.<br />
<br />
Se que tengo muchisimas (demasiadas.. jaja) fotos de pájaros... pero es que estas me gustan por que salieron de la nada. Estaba en el estacionamiento de un supermercado en San Francisco... miré por la ventana... y ahí cerquita cerquita estaban estos pajaritos! No pude resistir la tentación, saque la cámara y me pase unos 10 minutos con los bichitos estos. El señor del auto de al lado se reía... jajaja Aparentemente, los pájaros también se van de compras!<br />
<br />
<i>This semester, with school, work, meetings and everything else, I have had almost no time to shoot! I want to find a new place, and spend a whole day with the camera there just snapping away... but my schedule does not let me! :( I will be traveling to Uruguay for the holidays in a week with my dear camera, so you will be able to see a little bit of my beautiful country when I get back! But since that´s in a little while, I wanted to show you some that I shot the other day that came out pretty good.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I know I have a lot of bird pictures (too many...jaja), but I like these ones because they were taken pretty spontaneously. I was in the parking lot of a grocery store in San Francisco... I look through the window... and there, really close, where these little guys! I could not resist the temptation, took out the camera and spent 10 minutes with them. The man parked next to me laughed... jajaj Apparently birds go shopping, too!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sTfk_HOeCJigxk7oPK1idJ69NzqbLyA1FRRXU4t1NiLa1NTjnahOyzO1BCzKxS5QfdzQDv52DVkXVwf4m-GSOsUnigi8E_iNi0wLZaXeSV95UY27-LRomkxi3OFzOufXD-qeHpQyi0A/s1600/IMG_3279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sTfk_HOeCJigxk7oPK1idJ69NzqbLyA1FRRXU4t1NiLa1NTjnahOyzO1BCzKxS5QfdzQDv52DVkXVwf4m-GSOsUnigi8E_iNi0wLZaXeSV95UY27-LRomkxi3OFzOufXD-qeHpQyi0A/s640/IMG_3279.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El onductor del carrito....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtnOx_Ky5MUAdYt5t5sTk5u_1pSoCaDesTLtRCsuRQTqi5gD99rnxpw7UAlaJLYcSbCKRrmrXvWHY8mUmW5imHqQFPsAo-4kmOkZgAUb6NvTApWoW01gvyoUk017o-HawIrp09fjwCnU/s1600/IMG_3280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtnOx_Ky5MUAdYt5t5sTk5u_1pSoCaDesTLtRCsuRQTqi5gD99rnxpw7UAlaJLYcSbCKRrmrXvWHY8mUmW5imHqQFPsAo-4kmOkZgAUb6NvTApWoW01gvyoUk017o-HawIrp09fjwCnU/s640/IMG_3280.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....Y el pasajero.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZl_oMiVCyf-Q7Usd8BZRwK2ZpbDBjbtQUTRYdZwVpeoBeFauoh4rVDPgBNzdKU8uPgrSUvnlJ7WZquXENGNjf2OIv0WPBKzpYBHChEGUiyl1mqxVBkXgbfqrI7SLIBqDh8ZtYw6hWuA/s1600/IMG_3303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZl_oMiVCyf-Q7Usd8BZRwK2ZpbDBjbtQUTRYdZwVpeoBeFauoh4rVDPgBNzdKU8uPgrSUvnlJ7WZquXENGNjf2OIv0WPBKzpYBHChEGUiyl1mqxVBkXgbfqrI7SLIBqDh8ZtYw6hWuA/s640/IMG_3303.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hay gente que dice que tengo lindo perfil..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPt1W4Lx0NsBSypsnfaouqjvZCmFHlqgx9U1G2vgVkFXvJ9zaLMXACdHhurBP9SydCoEFFKKAhO18zPzntmlyvkXJ5Cs1pZACfzQs0rO82d9fA1EG9PCM-lOfK3OBhDGsWY0hVhcOvcaI/s1600/IMG_3216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPt1W4Lx0NsBSypsnfaouqjvZCmFHlqgx9U1G2vgVkFXvJ9zaLMXACdHhurBP9SydCoEFFKKAhO18zPzntmlyvkXJ5Cs1pZACfzQs0rO82d9fA1EG9PCM-lOfK3OBhDGsWY0hVhcOvcaI/s640/IMG_3216.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Esta en realidad no la saqué en el estacionamiento, pero la tenía que incluir... tenía solo una pata!!!!!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Magda</div>
magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-81169192541497201142012-11-18T12:12:00.000-08:002012-11-18T12:12:19.835-08:00Kisses from Katie<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So, it has been a looong time! School and work have been keeping pretty busy, but I found something that I just had to share with you!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cXAX3YX1iH4igTM3C2AKAJvwR9REK-HZsiQ1KHRrNDdxdVTNgfT64igjdhXjA7U-XJQrZVr8QiCKPBn-V80i7VlT83TroqpmjI4mf4fX-Be8sndjYtlA8xOh1gDBi9cYvJ_ck_BMe1s/s1600/katie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cXAX3YX1iH4igTM3C2AKAJvwR9REK-HZsiQ1KHRrNDdxdVTNgfT64igjdhXjA7U-XJQrZVr8QiCKPBn-V80i7VlT83TroqpmjI4mf4fX-Be8sndjYtlA8xOh1gDBi9cYvJ_ck_BMe1s/s1600/katie.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Corbel, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><i>As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace (1 Peter 4:10).</i></span></td></tr>
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Yesterday was a rainy, cold day in the Bay, so in between errands I went to Barnes and Nobles to just look around and see if I could find anything interesting for the Winter break. That´s when I found Katie Davis´ book, <i><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kisses-from-katie-katie-davis/1100397330">Kisses from Katie</a></i>. The cover shows a young woman, with a bunch of little children around her. Immediately I was reminded of<a href="http://magdafitipaldi.blogspot.com/p/journal-of-my-trip-to-uganda.html"> my trip to Uganda</a> last May! I read the back, and indeed it was about Uganda!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUUDf8x727kZlobLFJK7Dl6kEjEQ6xm6V8NaX3pq9GTRmaZEfp4xqOwmDQLt9Ra-aevBxkZiWKrniNwCdE0ear3BndZjTFbw-WqshE8xkXlzkc9n0C9AfA7X2QCdrMzM8pS-fNXbAlIU/s1600/Kate-Davis-Uganda-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUUDf8x727kZlobLFJK7Dl6kEjEQ6xm6V8NaX3pq9GTRmaZEfp4xqOwmDQLt9Ra-aevBxkZiWKrniNwCdE0ear3BndZjTFbw-WqshE8xkXlzkc9n0C9AfA7X2QCdrMzM8pS-fNXbAlIU/s1600/Kate-Davis-Uganda-2.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Corbel, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><i>We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother (1 John 4:19-21).</i></span></td></tr>
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Katie Davis' story is inspiring to say the least. After spending three weeks in Uganda doing ministry work with her mother during her senior year in high school, she fell in love with the country and felt that God was calling her to go back. Thus, once she graduated from high school she took a year off and returned to Uganda to work for 10 months as a kindergarten teacher. She was not a teacher, she did not have any family and few friends in Uganda, yet she knew that this was what God wanted for her. Within those 10 months she begun a non-profit organization, <a href="http://www.amazima.org/">Amazima Ministries International</a>, forged life long friendships, established herself, and adopted little girls!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhETIPA9VPswcQyEMd3_1XptJGBdaNq8S-8DCPNLPWDRffPlbMoYpy6Y_JA_PNojUCQY_XOpooB0dAswFoZkRWj25AJPNxRtbs4IjFxrrP43gCs1CwwGGjjjbWjqwf3gDt8PzcFGNHobSU/s1600/100311_katie_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhETIPA9VPswcQyEMd3_1XptJGBdaNq8S-8DCPNLPWDRffPlbMoYpy6Y_JA_PNojUCQY_XOpooB0dAswFoZkRWj25AJPNxRtbs4IjFxrrP43gCs1CwwGGjjjbWjqwf3gDt8PzcFGNHobSU/s1600/100311_katie_1.JPG" height="484" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Corbel, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><i>You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18).</i></span></td></tr>
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Katie now lives in Uganda, does <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nt3FMFh3D8M">INCREDIBLE</a> work for the people there - feeds children, helps women earn an income through the <a href="http://www.amazimastore.org/">selling of hand-made necklases</a>, helps to run a school, teaches the word of God to her community, cures the sick, attends to the needs of anyone and everyone that knocks on her door <i>and </i>is a full time mother of 13! And she is 24 years old!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrfNsxUeDj6tDQBiMXAzEpfKr5ux0h_zOfOrnXyLWv6kZSDnDv1j19Vy2S9mHuXNQj1XmAwdCvEg3Xfjz2eGeU_eXqFb-zhcu-eC3V3nBJNdpKWMPz8W2EJZPc5Y5mxRkQgQz7cZv_Fo/s1600/Katie-Davis-and-her-girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrfNsxUeDj6tDQBiMXAzEpfKr5ux0h_zOfOrnXyLWv6kZSDnDv1j19Vy2S9mHuXNQj1XmAwdCvEg3Xfjz2eGeU_eXqFb-zhcu-eC3V3nBJNdpKWMPz8W2EJZPc5Y5mxRkQgQz7cZv_Fo/s1600/Katie-Davis-and-her-girls.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Corbel, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><i>So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith (Gelatians 6:10).</i></span></td></tr>
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Her story is truly inspiring and I STRONGLY recommend that everyone hear her! </div>
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Here are some links to do so... (really, I am not kidding, this girl is a saint!!)</div>
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<li><a href="http://youtu.be/TZmWW_qL9Io">Interview and details of her story </a>- This one is a bit long, but <i>so</i> worth it! She describes a day in her life, the kinds of people she helps who just drop by at her house, and the story of how she got to where she is now. </li>
<li><a href="http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/">Katie's Blog</a> - It goes all the way back to 2007 when she went back to Uganda after graduating from high school! Warning: crying and/or excessive urges to travel to Uganda may occur as a result of reading this.</li>
<li><a href="http://www.amazima.org/">Amazima</a> - This is the foundation she started. Here you can purchase the necklaces that the women make, learn more about what she does to help the people of Uganda and donate for her to continue her work! They also have a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/amazimaministries?feature=results_main">YouTube channel</a> showing what projects they have accomplished and currently doing, and personal stories.</li>
<li><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kisses-from-katie-katie-davis/1100397330">Kisses from Katie</a> - If you are interested in reading her story, her book just came out! I am going to purchase a copy myself. </li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_268944708"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyez-F-EXrQTNLYZmUMHWndLKDinhuceV9DHV8ZFSCXvLRIZ4kYe4Mg_VJh3iwcDXWimcVGiQNenatcLK_kP5ULwSq26tJx2AedWaHanRCf-vxz8sMVprBgOIOPDFEl3tNG77U5ZoaucE/s1600/tumblr_mcl7etXYch1rcnqplo1_400.jpg" height="640" width="394" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Corbel, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/">What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? (James 2:14-17). </a></span></td></tr>
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<span id="goog_268944710"></span>I hope you enjoy Katie's story and the work that she is doing as much as I have! Sometimes when I hear of these sorts of stories - of individuals who do incredible things in far off places, that change people's lives and dedicate their own to loving others - I feel a bit powerless. There is so much need, and sometimes we think that there is so little that we can do. Although not everyone can move to Uganda, adopt young orphans, and give up their comfortable and stable lives to help the less fortunate - we can pray for her. We can pray for Katie, her family, and those who work with her, that God will give them the strength and power to continue their work providing their community with their basic needs, education, and to continue to bring to them the Good News. </div>
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- Magda</div>
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Note: this is usually where I post my photographs, but I did not take any of these.</div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi?ref=hl">Like Porque Si on Facebook!</a></div>
magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-25937949180668635212012-10-07T19:51:00.001-07:002012-10-07T19:52:56.953-07:00Una mañana por la feria<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sOkDqQTD70FR69Xcvt3CkXM_3jissWUSqc4AJQ4_3QRBZ3qpuTBC2SCIqoZcf8I61RUUBaeCeuwf7PZ7lroe6h8BP8sHUbyH8OCK8HlrnEaw2m9Lkh43kmD3LfBRsGCc7lZjHvlXTVo/s1600/IMG_3010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sOkDqQTD70FR69Xcvt3CkXM_3jissWUSqc4AJQ4_3QRBZ3qpuTBC2SCIqoZcf8I61RUUBaeCeuwf7PZ7lroe6h8BP8sHUbyH8OCK8HlrnEaw2m9Lkh43kmD3LfBRsGCc7lZjHvlXTVo/s640/IMG_3010.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Por suerte este semestre empiezo las clases todos los días a las 11! Así que tengo la mañana libre para despertarme bien, hacer algún deber que me quede, estar al santo pedo, o... sascar fotos! :)<br />
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Por donde vivo jueves es día de feria, así que después de un desayuno rico en un hermoso parque lleno de patitos, me fui a la feria!</div>
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Acá van algunas... :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzTAD5jQ54fw0EBvMIQwbcyYGdQd4zphYUbqUFCe2sCpe0Z3-ohyQXDVnmTXe5Crd9xWNuZ4CwGaQ5ovZIl-BsovqPgEGhg7rkVxdO6pM6R3yl_Cy0VWRoKDjBH9bnYXekC0h9bK_BxM/s1600/IMG_3011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzTAD5jQ54fw0EBvMIQwbcyYGdQd4zphYUbqUFCe2sCpe0Z3-ohyQXDVnmTXe5Crd9xWNuZ4CwGaQ5ovZIl-BsovqPgEGhg7rkVxdO6pM6R3yl_Cy0VWRoKDjBH9bnYXekC0h9bK_BxM/s640/IMG_3011.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBt94zSvmT3wO6XdubP1HMaI1xDZgLEBokev4dYwM0euKBLuq_HQbmVb_I0V6EXNVuTrH_TMsRTEc1Fp0EuA7Hu5AlQawU-5irFY2UWZtW8PKojF3ehZUhqEmnahKxSPIekJzZZN3YVc/s1600/IMG_3016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBt94zSvmT3wO6XdubP1HMaI1xDZgLEBokev4dYwM0euKBLuq_HQbmVb_I0V6EXNVuTrH_TMsRTEc1Fp0EuA7Hu5AlQawU-5irFY2UWZtW8PKojF3ehZUhqEmnahKxSPIekJzZZN3YVc/s640/IMG_3016.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">La fruta MÁS RICA del planeta tierra!</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGofND5Pf4wujUrycHW8lZO7hbDBjIMTTEnZgZkh2BXnxVTGsntY5BifKkj7G_6VWNbgTUHtMaFsHE2qMzn4bju-y07vfjyefeXihi7epXbxqvVyc1i1QHbI6Uxtebp5MBnm06dSiWPVw/s1600/IMG_3018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGofND5Pf4wujUrycHW8lZO7hbDBjIMTTEnZgZkh2BXnxVTGsntY5BifKkj7G_6VWNbgTUHtMaFsHE2qMzn4bju-y07vfjyefeXihi7epXbxqvVyc1i1QHbI6Uxtebp5MBnm06dSiWPVw/s640/IMG_3018.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Culitos de Zanahoria!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwAtDNwqfTXlGEDDT9mQj0XSk6p_Z7TiJ5oL4Bhp43jdw6nRyqAcICboPDev_DmCf7cdghfCAxGgDr973lgQITfZB6SGeueH03r_4uvV3bNj-ZPAFeMVQes-rlkTfzltk7xAsbc6B3J8/s1600/IMG_3062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwAtDNwqfTXlGEDDT9mQj0XSk6p_Z7TiJ5oL4Bhp43jdw6nRyqAcICboPDev_DmCf7cdghfCAxGgDr973lgQITfZB6SGeueH03r_4uvV3bNj-ZPAFeMVQes-rlkTfzltk7xAsbc6B3J8/s640/IMG_3062.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lindisimas las florcitas.. las mujeres del puesto me miraban... yo les sonrreía nomás y seguía sacando fotos.. :)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxhr26UIV3i-Lw1QSzyCh8sLh103Gt4i_uA4r-Buxm9_DBgJ0xRcCsySUBRzhU6SmFa-XIGVZSBZEVgs4iYjgDa2fHVKqGtQYwwE92B_cokfTZ3i3mxHY39q9FWbYIXH9uCNs-ooEN1E/s1600/IMG_3040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxhr26UIV3i-Lw1QSzyCh8sLh103Gt4i_uA4r-Buxm9_DBgJ0xRcCsySUBRzhU6SmFa-XIGVZSBZEVgs4iYjgDa2fHVKqGtQYwwE92B_cokfTZ3i3mxHY39q9FWbYIXH9uCNs-ooEN1E/s640/IMG_3040.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tenía ganas de traerme un poco de lechuga y ir probando cada botellita jajaj</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5Duq4KoAovqKIEWL0Q_0AhRmTTdPRQgi0wVIsmxu010oIE5uu9016nzzwEl5s8nrNj9beBSXMvxRxEqXoFvnwCHMTj6s8jsCRFnQnjWM94bYTx4vWex7_VMICw-MpXT8w_kEIoU7qt4/s1600/IMG_3048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5Duq4KoAovqKIEWL0Q_0AhRmTTdPRQgi0wVIsmxu010oIE5uu9016nzzwEl5s8nrNj9beBSXMvxRxEqXoFvnwCHMTj6s8jsCRFnQnjWM94bYTx4vWex7_VMICw-MpXT8w_kEIoU7qt4/s640/IMG_3048.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chiquititos y deliciosos!</span></td></tr>
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-23198967025086115312012-09-27T22:09:00.000-07:002012-11-19T14:21:18.615-08:00De azul con flores blancas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Algunas fotitos de mis modelos más prácticos y baratos.</div>
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Obvio que también son los mejores... :)</div>
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<br />magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-66816810039924927412012-08-07T23:20:00.003-07:002012-08-07T23:20:28.069-07:00I ate grasshoppers in Uganda!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, I ate grasshoppers... or better said, encenene!</div>
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<i>Si!!! Comí saltamontes!!! O mejor dicho... encenene!</i></div>
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Yummy, yummy! Here are the little bugs! With eyes, legs and everything!</div>
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<i>Que rico! Los comimos enteritos enteritos... con ojos, alas, patas y todo!</i></div>
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A few of the brave souls...these are the evidence pictures!</div>
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<i>Las chicas valientes... y la evidencia de que si se los comieron!</i></div>
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Ready, set, gooo!! The last pictures is poor evidence... that grasshopper went all the way down my throat!</div>
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<i>Prontos.. listos.. yaaa!!!! Estas si que son pura evidencia... en la tercer foto, ese saltamontes me lo comi todito!</i></div>
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Our faithful chaser.. Redd´s! It tasted like apple beer... like cider, but alcoholic. So good! And such a good helper when you started to feel the little grasshopper legs with your tongue in your mouth!</div>
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<i>Nuestro fiel ayudante... Redd´s! Era tipo cerveza de manzana... como cidra pero con alcohol. Riquisima! Y que bien que nos vino cuando empezabamos a sentir las patitas de los saltamontes con la lengua en la boca!</i></div>
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To be honest, and just to the poor bugs, they were actually not bad at all. They tasted like chicken... but crispy... and with legs... and eyes. The texture was.. a bit like soft plastic, or paper, very crunchy. I wouldn´t eat a whole plate of them, like Father Kizito almost did, but I would not mind having them again!</div>
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<i>Bueno en realidad, y para ser justa con los pobres bichitos, no eran nada feos. Tenian gusto a pollo.. pero más crujientes... con patitias... y ojitos. La textura... un poco como comer plastico blandito, o papel. No voy a decir que me comería un plato entero de saltamontes, como casí hizo Father Kizito, pero si los comería de nuevo si algún días se me da la oportunidad!</i></div>
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<br /></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-38272472216171736212012-08-04T21:03:00.001-07:002012-08-04T21:03:09.614-07:00The Children of Lake Wamala<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On one of the days we visited a small village by a lake called Wamala. There we found these children and immediately began to play around with them and take pictures and laugh. We gave them some stickers; but they didn´t know what they were. To better explain their function we stuck them on their arms to show them that they could be used as decoration. They laughed and laughed at this funny first-world toy and I realized that there is absolutely no point to stickers. So I laughed too :). But our idea worked, and before we knew it they had stickers on the cheeks, arms, foreheads, ears. And all along they just laughed and laughed. In the whole two weeks we were in Uganda, the children of Lake Wamala were the most impoverished that I saw... and here come these westerners to visit their village. Westerners who have money and are supposed to give aid. Unfortunately, at that time all we had were stickers, but stickers were not going to improve their situation. Yet they did not seem to care that these white women were giving them something completely useless and foreign to them. They were still smiling and laughing and so happy to see us. And I hope that if you look at the photographs carefully, I hope that you can see their innocence and that they can bring you a sense of peace and joy, as they did with me.</div>
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<i> Un día fuimos a visitar un pequeño pueblito en las orillas del lago Wamala. Ahí nos encontramos con estos niños y comenzamos a jugar, sacar fotos y a reírnos con ellos. De regalo les dimos unos pegotines que teníamos, pero no sabían lo que eran. Entonces, para explicarles para qué servían, se los pegamos a los brazos para que vieran que podían servir como decoración. Se rieron al darse cuenta de la función de ese juguete raro del primer mundo... y yo me di cuenta de que los pegotines no sirven para mucho, y </i><i>me reí también :) Pero nuestra idea de pegárselos al cuerpo funcionó, y pronto los niños tenían pegotines por los cachetes, la frente, los brazos, las orejas. ¡Cómo se rieron! ¡Y cómo nos hicieron reir! En las dos semanas que estuve en Uganda no vi pobreza tan impactante como la de este pueblo. No tenian más que lo que se ve en las fotos. Y ahí fuimos a parar nosotras, del primer mundo, privilegiadas porque tenemos agua limpia, comida, zapatos, ropa... con la obligación de ayudarlos y aliviar la probreza en la que viven. Lamentablemente, lo único que les trajimos fueron pegotines; invento sin propósito alguno que les tuvimos que explicar para qué los podí</i><i>an usar. Pero a ellos no les importó. Ellos igual estaban contentos de recibirnos, alegres, sonrrientes y tan inocentes. Espero que las fotos puedan reflejar por lo menos un poquito de esa paz tan linda que me hicieron sentir los niños del lago Wamala.</i></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Enseñaras a volar, pero no volarán tu vuelo. Enseñaras a soñar, pero no soñaran tus sueños. Enseñaras a vivir, pero no vivirén tu vida. Sin embargo, en cada vuelo, en cada vida, en cada sueño, perdurará siempre la huella del camino enseñado.</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- Madre Teresa de Calcuta</span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-UY"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No
tenemos en nuestras manos las soluciones para los problemas del mundo. Pero
frente a los problemas del mundo, tenemos nuestras manos.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-UY"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- Mamerto
Menapace</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> I did not tell her to pose.. I pointed the camera towards her and she immediately put her hands together and looked up at me... the only reason I didn´t start crying right there in front of her was because I was afraid of scaring her.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">No le dije que pose. Puse la camara en su dirección y inmediatamente juntó sus manitos y me miró... la única razón por la cual no me puse a llorar ahí enfrente de ella fue porque no quería asustarla.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Es Navidad cada vez que sonríes a un hermano y tiendes la mano. Es Navidad cada vez que estás en silencio para escuchar al otro. Es Navidad cada vez que no aceptas aquellos pincipios que destierran a los oprimidos al margen de la sociedad. Es Navidad cada vez que esperas con aquellos que desesperan en la pobreza física y espiritual. Es Navidad cada vez que reconoces con humildad tus límites y tu debilidad. Es Navidad cada vez que permites al Señor renacer para darlo a los demás.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Madre Teresa de Calcuta</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8KC1JP_5JwQWlqmvskqnU7K0C7wac55nwccnX7SWsQG56-BKnNLWDZYsITNZXxEdibyzZBI5XweihUmOgcHkZGHJYutbReqaU8Jvol5mw5d7ErCndMe37Ugv7xIuKKbHVSbSmQ5K15U/s1600/IMG_9487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8KC1JP_5JwQWlqmvskqnU7K0C7wac55nwccnX7SWsQG56-BKnNLWDZYsITNZXxEdibyzZBI5XweihUmOgcHkZGHJYutbReqaU8Jvol5mw5d7ErCndMe37Ugv7xIuKKbHVSbSmQ5K15U/s640/IMG_9487.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dios prefiere nuestra fidelidad en las cosas pequeñas que nos encomienda, mucho más que el ardor por las grandes que no dependen de nosotros. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- San Francisco de Sales</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Para ver más fotos entren en la página de Facebook y hagan click en ¨Me Gusta¨!</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</span></a></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-30736275025046828042012-07-30T20:54:00.000-07:002012-07-30T20:54:17.280-07:00Final reflection: The beginning<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanVLCbuZ2NEYeCXGfSvvQ-FNvBGIJY7dpT9uS2xK4nFb-WSh8cUVgklIjDuVncbXvviMOBE5XxcKDlyWMxrFXSl_DPh6hyVtkZG0Ai55d_NpgK7bFxz1EaajCtuGl1ttChndJQ2BnobY/s1600/Leeann.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanVLCbuZ2NEYeCXGfSvvQ-FNvBGIJY7dpT9uS2xK4nFb-WSh8cUVgklIjDuVncbXvviMOBE5XxcKDlyWMxrFXSl_DPh6hyVtkZG0Ai55d_NpgK7bFxz1EaajCtuGl1ttChndJQ2BnobY/s640/Leeann.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I could spend hours and hours photographing these children and seeing them smile and laugh like this!!<br />Photo taken by LeeAnn</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We left Uganda, spent an incredible
and unforgettable 20 hours in London and have been in the US for a few days
now.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I am still incapable of comprehending
the magnitude and impact of this trip.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">So much happened!</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I guess I will
see the results of it later down the road when in retrospect I see how this
trip has changed me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">What I do know,
however, is that I will not keep my arms crossed. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I want to do more for Uganda, for the people
and the children and for all of those we met that were so welcoming and kind
and in need of our help.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">That is why I
say that this trip was just the beginning.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I do not want to stop here, and I do not think that the group does
either.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We have already been talking
amongst us about other projects that we can do in the future, garbage bins, and
definitely more water filters, the possibilities and needs are endless, and our
motivation just as much.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Our personal
financial resources may not cause dramatic changes in the lives of so many
Ugandans in need, but I know that with our communities, friends and families we
can do so much good!</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We have the
capability to make another positive change in Uganda, and I will not let that
opportunity go by.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I do not think I
could live with myself knowing that I met so many people that need my help, and
that I could help, and not do anything about it.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">They deserve a better life, clean water,
shelter, clothing, a good diet and income, and I believe it is my duty, as
someone lucky enough to have these luxuries, to help them obtain these basic
needs.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY_qJexl_qHejbdNDcduAmFthAzwJYXb1c0qc1S3TmU7SnoetcCxXPut0RwIg5QCKx1a52rgCvEKwsmU2g5D1JBAhyZFr8l2OFdbCotYdg0o4BRlF-Q3Rx2YV5wWXR84LgICIOQvliio/s1600/brit3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY_qJexl_qHejbdNDcduAmFthAzwJYXb1c0qc1S3TmU7SnoetcCxXPut0RwIg5QCKx1a52rgCvEKwsmU2g5D1JBAhyZFr8l2OFdbCotYdg0o4BRlF-Q3Rx2YV5wWXR84LgICIOQvliio/s640/brit3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh how they liked the camera... :)<br />Photo taken by Brittany</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> This trip has not only inspired in
me a desire to help, but it has also forced me to question myself, by beliefs
and actions, in ways I had never done before.
It has helped me to understand why I do the things I do and if I should continue
with them or not. There is still a lot I
have to reflect on and figure out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5znTWFPXGYmo6rNrP_eCG7qmhzfsoGFxreHoJK2lpq7HtIey3tiXqplGLYw6Aam-VrKokysigx5CQStVGB6ENdE_IoRGBUnNvN556sw7g9J03-vgRKlMXmJ2wseeOpzrGWnokw684UZ0/s1600/SAM_3242+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5znTWFPXGYmo6rNrP_eCG7qmhzfsoGFxreHoJK2lpq7HtIey3tiXqplGLYw6Aam-VrKokysigx5CQStVGB6ENdE_IoRGBUnNvN556sw7g9J03-vgRKlMXmJ2wseeOpzrGWnokw684UZ0/s640/SAM_3242+(2).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last day... these two little girls almost made me cry. I will post about them separately, they were truly incredible, I didn´t want to leave them!!!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The pictures… will they come out as
the portraits of poor, suffering children and just remain as memories from a
journey? Or will they actually have an
impact on the people that see them and inspire them to help? I hope they do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> And what about everyone I met? How will they be now? I keep on thinking about everyone we met,
looking at the watch, adding 10 hours and trying to imagine what they are doing
at this exact moment. Their lives will
continue and so will mine… but will they ever cross again? We met so many wonderful, wonderful people…
will I ever see them again?? Will they
be okay?? Will their situations improve,
or get worse? I will pray for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxzpJT6RmmagPQdaX9fDWR_WxZa_1G0ugkazbSIkU02fzmvaw-17PxxB_Fti1BaoUTRPYs4LiP3_AkiRnsHH7AFfUyxVL3mabcbRykl1Nv_9js3bju0Vztybz7IbSN9C0KSafGMTMj6w/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxzpJT6RmmagPQdaX9fDWR_WxZa_1G0ugkazbSIkU02fzmvaw-17PxxB_Fti1BaoUTRPYs4LiP3_AkiRnsHH7AFfUyxVL3mabcbRykl1Nv_9js3bju0Vztybz7IbSN9C0KSafGMTMj6w/s640/IMG_0248.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the seminary we visited with one of the students. We played basketball with the boys, talked about music, hobbies... so fun! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzDaycs16ObvDp0oE38nXUp_QAXdcCMtvrorN1BpR2kTaVH9WzyRtyZjCqKlrk-VZnP7tXe1iM08L6FhJOslKEbapr04UCy4vKI0yrOMeAdOUvMtMxh7ytiWUizRGahnZrvEQX2RXkzk/s1600/IMG_9938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzDaycs16ObvDp0oE38nXUp_QAXdcCMtvrorN1BpR2kTaVH9WzyRtyZjCqKlrk-VZnP7tXe1iM08L6FhJOslKEbapr04UCy4vKI0yrOMeAdOUvMtMxh7ytiWUizRGahnZrvEQX2RXkzk/s640/IMG_9938.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The students, teachers and nun at a school we visited. We had so much fun with them! They put music and we all started dancing and laughing... I will create a separate post about them! :)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Before Africa I knew of the poverty
that existed, the situation of the children, men and women living there and the
struggles they faced. Most people now that,
but we subconsciously chose not to think about it, put it far in the back of our
minds and continue with our lives. But now that I have seen it, and met those people,
the memories of will never disappear and I do not think it will be very easy to
put it to the side like before. I don´t want
to. That is why Uganda has changed me,
and helped to become a different person than the one that stepped out of the
little yellow staircase of the plain in the Entebbe airport. I know it sounds corny and the phrase has been
used a million times, but it is true. I
cannot say how exactly, I do not want to say that it has made me a better
person, one with a wider view of the world, that it has opened my eyes to
another reality, that it has made me more grateful for what I have and inspired
me to help others… because although all that is true… This trip was so much more than that! Saying that those were the results does not
do it justice, and does not even come close to the reality of it all. I am humbled, and grateful for the
opportunity that I had. I would never,
in a million years, have imagined myself in UGANDA. There are no more words that I can say about
this trip. Anything I say about it will
come short of what I am feeling. Yet, I
hope that I am able to turn all of this, these feelings and confusion, into aid
that will help Uganda, and try to give back a little of what it gave me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the boat trip at Murchison Falls. Some are missing, but I could not have asked for a better group of individuals to share this experience with!<br />Photo taken by Brittany</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Don´t forget to like the Facebook to see more pictures! </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi?ref=hl">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</a></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-84396023539449683042012-07-24T20:55:00.000-07:002012-07-24T20:55:59.265-07:00Day 7: The book of the Jungle<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> 23
May 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Ladies and gentlemen, I am writing
sitting on a little boat in the middle of the NILE RIVER! Yep, the Nile. Today we did the safari and now we are in
little boats that took us to<a href="http://magdafitipaldi.blogspot.com/2012/07/murchison-falls.html"> Murchison Falls</a>.
I am speechless. The peace of
this river, the PERFECT weather, no one drop of cold and a beautiful refreshing
breeze. This is just incredible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The river is pretty wide, although
for some reason I thought it was wider, I thought you would not be able to see
the other side, but you clearly can. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2lnHisVF0tfpbaTsPEmJvpAjaV3CuncpxqmfAcpbIpi6U8hgcCD4lTCAQgoGfQjXgy5iLQviQeIrmkjsuoZZycxfDsM6Qk80i5_BqQErbKBZM29PIFyaDZnp7acZXLQVPy25YBi0fJiY/s1600/IMG_1056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2lnHisVF0tfpbaTsPEmJvpAjaV3CuncpxqmfAcpbIpi6U8hgcCD4lTCAQgoGfQjXgy5iLQviQeIrmkjsuoZZycxfDsM6Qk80i5_BqQErbKBZM29PIFyaDZnp7acZXLQVPy25YBi0fJiY/s640/IMG_1056.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Among hippos, birds and fishermen</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> I cannot believe I am here. Here, in the same river where the Bible says that
Moses was found, the longest river in the world, and probably the most known
too, the one we learned about in primary school and saw in the atlases and
never even imagined or dreamed of seeing in person….simply because, not only
this, but the entire trip is beyond even my dreams. When I stop to think that doing a safari in
Africa is the dream of so many people, part of their bucket list, and here I am…
having done it already! During my first
year of college, two days away from my 20</span><sup style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">th</sup><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> birthday, of entering
another decade…. I’m getting goose bumps. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> We saw SO many animals today, I
tried to remember all of them, but I don’t think I got all of them… here is my
best try:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Water buffalos</b> – so many of them!! They
were everywhere, and birds apparently love to just sit on them and chill and
ride along!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeLQvfB3wynEB9WZAPttXn1wIbbFQkSDtZfOGFw8fktuVYJvQrRqkquk5twPurqeFPomUfAvU6NkU-duKAuAW82ixh3CSTcxCgUYMJLEClMUqrPqwFimRGeaoikuPLUjvxNiezfDe7C0/s1600/IMG_1141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeLQvfB3wynEB9WZAPttXn1wIbbFQkSDtZfOGFw8fktuVYJvQrRqkquk5twPurqeFPomUfAvU6NkU-duKAuAW82ixh3CSTcxCgUYMJLEClMUqrPqwFimRGeaoikuPLUjvxNiezfDe7C0/s640/IMG_1141.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amiguitos!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfWSAoKLbvpNVTpGCTrhKQexAEOZD-diJ5Vd3qzIT5WigKPSSqg5mOsQ-uzhOA3z3PAWzJwPNRLxgIyq81v9Ht9CtHW9UWOKjny1gQYgwK-I1j80obX6_6BZTndX1KuKrU2tne4KGlHY/s1600/IMG_0827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfWSAoKLbvpNVTpGCTrhKQexAEOZD-diJ5Vd3qzIT5WigKPSSqg5mOsQ-uzhOA3z3PAWzJwPNRLxgIyq81v9Ht9CtHW9UWOKjny1gQYgwK-I1j80obX6_6BZTndX1KuKrU2tne4KGlHY/s640/IMG_0827.JPG" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Go to the Facebook page and watch the sequence of these buddies... pretty amazing how they coexist.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Lions</b> – Yep, TWO! And one… eating a water buffalo!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHveFpTuNT21fYtU-A7WI-QW4DV_F5ByhtATU9tJheV817pzdzN0q4HjY4j6SlbQ3h-caq5UXujTyl07lYyT2Im7jT06ZPd9eYXyr6Wn3B9oHFnEqijQWDYEpCyiCVDKJpsc25efyIKQ/s1600/IMG_0976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHveFpTuNT21fYtU-A7WI-QW4DV_F5ByhtATU9tJheV817pzdzN0q4HjY4j6SlbQ3h-caq5UXujTyl07lYyT2Im7jT06ZPd9eYXyr6Wn3B9oHFnEqijQWDYEpCyiCVDKJpsc25efyIKQ/s640/IMG_0976.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Pumbas!!!</b> – They even sneaked into
the hotel lawn!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Giraffes</b> – Fr. Kizito’s favorite
animal… by far. Every time we saw one he
would scream as if it was the first time, “Look! A giraffe! That’s my favorite
animal!”</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvO_IJ_Cp8_LKN9shH0YZrKeRXC0bstH4Vr32QMdGbxiA1NWRd3BP67sRUvFwImn-fA7Pqnd1NJaKq4wvHPtUQdlC3lJS07DSZZ6lWmwEtYgiqh_RDKqoBSCwi1e5PfsCcYGD7Xru9mY/s1600/IMG_1109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvO_IJ_Cp8_LKN9shH0YZrKeRXC0bstH4Vr32QMdGbxiA1NWRd3BP67sRUvFwImn-fA7Pqnd1NJaKq4wvHPtUQdlC3lJS07DSZZ6lWmwEtYgiqh_RDKqoBSCwi1e5PfsCcYGD7Xru9mY/s640/IMG_1109.JPG" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Las elegantes</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT609QvLbqwoyHAEbpEaR42LEbDrm0ihVaD4cdvq281aB9i-sz4gEUafHX3TWSaHtTYLp2YIlN4F_KNtrSJkhSf-Z5d_JzXxeqVUG3brzsCTIiTlVXGhep22GGBRJZ1ztV4u1JFs2Btk/s1600/IMG_0969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT609QvLbqwoyHAEbpEaR42LEbDrm0ihVaD4cdvq281aB9i-sz4gEUafHX3TWSaHtTYLp2YIlN4F_KNtrSJkhSf-Z5d_JzXxeqVUG3brzsCTIiTlVXGhep22GGBRJZ1ztV4u1JFs2Btk/s640/IMG_0969.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Elephants</b> – So, so wonderful! And
Also friends with the birds!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlcIJhWSCOJVPM95RzWc530Fe4jbjJc03Q6z8ux66csBEvuwc1jkwIhJn-8siWJzV0cvP5cACzI5E4keo71mxg7lTgRj5vVlEb8JEjKBLy0it-G-aAu8CMCOZ-DhJUQh6FiIQ_j1N5ik/s1600/IMG_1199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlcIJhWSCOJVPM95RzWc530Fe4jbjJc03Q6z8ux66csBEvuwc1jkwIhJn-8siWJzV0cvP5cACzI5E4keo71mxg7lTgRj5vVlEb8JEjKBLy0it-G-aAu8CMCOZ-DhJUQh6FiIQ_j1N5ik/s640/IMG_1199.JPG" width="520" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chau!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Oribi-</b> The models of the jungle… they
posed for the pictures… I am not kidding, look!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyqUhcqO6S_HsYGJrsFgRtKHiLfn0KcAcOw2zRalzkoUlgywxg1ballj7i1u52Vif685fWgxz6LuhcC441CA3_TRKqxwvS9lhfHn9V-_UEl6hqxIAx17Rg5Vpmy_-P4T8IPn6ucfZqe4/s1600/IMG_0956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyqUhcqO6S_HsYGJrsFgRtKHiLfn0KcAcOw2zRalzkoUlgywxg1ballj7i1u52Vif685fWgxz6LuhcC441CA3_TRKqxwvS9lhfHn9V-_UEl6hqxIAx17Rg5Vpmy_-P4T8IPn6ucfZqe4/s640/IMG_0956.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The jungle´s Next Top Models!<br />Posaban!!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>The bird from the Ugandan flag</b> – One
of the most beautiful birds I have EVER seen!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicj4_gK6i_tTqYB70jEGjCAd8I-9cfjyDZKPx85jYgxwhlWGHL7qhk747fqM9i99645jiZFZfW-kxaZ7USp8kTJ1cVPGjnetXLcKMiwWJlXIc05jq5OBM9rvAwpbJ-30OujD0HwWjGQuo/s1600/IMG_1073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicj4_gK6i_tTqYB70jEGjCAd8I-9cfjyDZKPx85jYgxwhlWGHL7qhk747fqM9i99645jiZFZfW-kxaZ7USp8kTJ1cVPGjnetXLcKMiwWJlXIc05jq5OBM9rvAwpbJ-30OujD0HwWjGQuo/s640/IMG_1073.JPG" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such beautiful birds!<br />Eran hermosos!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>African Bald Eagles-</b> which the tour guide enjoyed calling Bold eagle..<b> </b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Monkeys</b>- there were not that many but
we just saw some on our way to the falls, hanging on some trees and some other
ones on the street!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Hippopotamuses</b> – SO much bigger than
I had imagined! If I had to chose to be
one animal, a hippo would be the last.
They don’t do anything! They just
sit there, with a smile on their faces because of the natural way their mouth
curves up and just stay there. In a
school of hippos, (or a group, I forget the name of it for hippos) there is
always one loner. The loner is the brave
one, the one that fights with others and wins.
He is all scratched up and looks like he is suffering all alone,
isolated from the group and bloody looking…. But apparently that´s “cool” in
hippopotamus world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
as the guide told us, apparently hippos are not the only ones that include
loners. The giraffes, once they are old,
also leave and just wander off by themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQETmdfeuMQ4LlZgNzsCGA99vPTgf5wAQFvhHtNwniuAZb_Ka7uKKjdyEJi8mesIotb4xmNWvVhXxZVHoLZhgDkxu7-11BrwNBfN565f7gaaOV2EbbKqPp0ZlKCVcUYu3fZoTYlRGxfMI/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQETmdfeuMQ4LlZgNzsCGA99vPTgf5wAQFvhHtNwniuAZb_Ka7uKKjdyEJi8mesIotb4xmNWvVhXxZVHoLZhgDkxu7-11BrwNBfN565f7gaaOV2EbbKqPp0ZlKCVcUYu3fZoTYlRGxfMI/s640/IMG_1127.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Agarrate Catalina!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Crocodiles</b>: The scariest ones! Why?
Well apart from the fact that they have huge teeth that could rip one of
us apart in seconds and that they do not mind showing for 10 minutes straight
and intimidating scales, they are so quick!
I could barely get a picture of them because they would either be hiding
or, when they went to get in the water they would do it too fast!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfF-58i1lKdpej8_020YWQqNgSbq5ODPOjvwkMQMJ1Xi1dEC__yiNPpE28L3qVXkMUIJZm36aEE5Er8pRVS7mymZ9shTv1AUOXaKiSOtn3QJacuGLSI3fchkBBwkEDFidotnyVsZ3UieQ/s1600/IMG_1235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfF-58i1lKdpej8_020YWQqNgSbq5ODPOjvwkMQMJ1Xi1dEC__yiNPpE28L3qVXkMUIJZm36aEE5Er8pRVS7mymZ9shTv1AUOXaKiSOtn3QJacuGLSI3fchkBBwkEDFidotnyVsZ3UieQ/s640/IMG_1235.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I see you!<br />Te veo!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Whispering Acacia</b> – a plant that
ants live on and giraffes like to eat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Quails</b> – so beautiful but unfortunately
too quick for my camera.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><b>Waterbucks- </b>very pretty little animals... they liked to hang out with the Ugandan birds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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….and more that I don´t remember…</div>
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One of
the best parts however, was the lion. At
the beginning it was far away from us, eating the waterbuck that it had
killed. But then, after about 20
minutes, it walked towards the road… and crossed it!!!! It was behind us and I could not take a
picture.. but it was crazy!!!! The lion
was crossing the street behind us!!! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoaZHDWnxLNg_xHrr2PGIeYTlvpsxMPjucOQg9S8kZ0uxjdJyaEMC0NFSWur_ilcjbA2lNAtZ0AnsZ52wCzcMwCyP32w9H_nw-urcUGyrBFLbDICwAz-Q2VQ2k-A7BCLKzjJsSFD-3PU/s1600/IMG_0816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoaZHDWnxLNg_xHrr2PGIeYTlvpsxMPjucOQg9S8kZ0uxjdJyaEMC0NFSWur_ilcjbA2lNAtZ0AnsZ52wCzcMwCyP32w9H_nw-urcUGyrBFLbDICwAz-Q2VQ2k-A7BCLKzjJsSFD-3PU/s640/IMG_0816.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">El paisaje... como para no querer ser un animal y vivir acá...</span></td></tr>
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I have
no words to describe how beautiful this place is… the plants, the trees, the
animals… it´s like living in a zoo! And
I mean that literally. We were having
lunch today and all of a sudden… pumbas on the lawn! Yep, they were just walking along… AND we
heard from the hotel people that the day before we arrived they found an
elephant in the pool! That one… is less believable,
but I believe it anyways, it makes everything more fun. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> </div>
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There are A LOT of really awesome pictures of the Safari,
the boat trip on the Nile and the hotel on <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1212690141">Facebook! </a><span lang="ES-UY"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">Check them out!</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-UY">Hay muchas
más fotos del Safari, del hotel y del paseo por el Nilo en <a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">Facebook! Que lasdisfrtuen! </a></span><span lang="ES-UY" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ansi-language: ES-UY; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="ES-UY"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-UY">-Magda<o:p></o:p></span></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-28830592422197881082012-07-24T20:24:00.000-07:002012-07-24T20:24:14.142-07:00Murchison Falls<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvSLKUxHh9_2WMgyQ4by68EZxvB83dbhyphenhyphenkH2kOmHPQRuJyQXNUsig3974Jr0vozw2hbS1rF76_xjpts0tgqDl7PUVg5fZA-e9aSSD6tNHvx9UQuD_t54tWzTxSZ4HXpdJMgoDncoEsQc/s1600/IMG_0699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvSLKUxHh9_2WMgyQ4by68EZxvB83dbhyphenhyphenkH2kOmHPQRuJyQXNUsig3974Jr0vozw2hbS1rF76_xjpts0tgqDl7PUVg5fZA-e9aSSD6tNHvx9UQuD_t54tWzTxSZ4HXpdJMgoDncoEsQc/s640/IMG_0699.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">That´s where I was! This sign was at either side of the Nile, at the place were we crossed with the boat.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha24wsQ75oXxrV1WoCZsbMBjtw0KXC-3C0uWVc2-ALBpF5gShkOhGW-xCNxioXuEXLBXj84zb-IVed92jSb9u_6aEiLZW_K2br7MW_UyyjpAtmwxCPQu2Et5ZYl567daxcXsUo6CD2LlM/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha24wsQ75oXxrV1WoCZsbMBjtw0KXC-3C0uWVc2-ALBpF5gShkOhGW-xCNxioXuEXLBXj84zb-IVed92jSb9u_6aEiLZW_K2br7MW_UyyjpAtmwxCPQu2Et5ZYl567daxcXsUo6CD2LlM/s640/IMG_0731.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, after a 12 hours car ride in VERY bumby roads we got to the hotel! ... and of course then we got silly.. :)<br />Por fin, después de un viaje de 12 horas por caminos que eran un poso solo, llegamos al hotel!... y porsupuesto no tardamos en empezar a hacer pavadas.. :)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8BhSNpIU4YW-Xe5Ai-18DmODjup4yS_G_g5WehmdXeiYqvd6R5aJYk2BkwrYsxEpsJQj3iTH8LuyHqgEY9v6ieXoDRAxJVVAG7DvwBY6hYKDHriVax7p7sJX9KcxMdxkGsJZSKSHs3M/s1600/IMG_1114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8BhSNpIU4YW-Xe5Ai-18DmODjup4yS_G_g5WehmdXeiYqvd6R5aJYk2BkwrYsxEpsJQj3iTH8LuyHqgEY9v6ieXoDRAxJVVAG7DvwBY6hYKDHriVax7p7sJX9KcxMdxkGsJZSKSHs3M/s640/IMG_1114.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">... and the menu changed! We went from mitoke and beans, to fancy shmancy western food...we ate (and drank) like pigs!<br />....cambió el menu! Después de comer solo mitoke y porotos, cambiamos a comida del hotel pituco que nos tocó... comimos (y tomamos) como vacas!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaV_w9LdnikyfnZVoNMaGYvVZZf9s0Uy3uR9zFvJp8VEJOly8dH5UHX99WfhzN3_CmxgNCx21sQ1z3dk4ihBO7UQrDVRxwK5kNd7vPwVMsm_7Zugsgg51ZmXTuXnht5Z1S7qKl7tMuF9E/s1600/IMG_1264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaV_w9LdnikyfnZVoNMaGYvVZZf9s0Uy3uR9zFvJp8VEJOly8dH5UHX99WfhzN3_CmxgNCx21sQ1z3dk4ihBO7UQrDVRxwK5kNd7vPwVMsm_7Zugsgg51ZmXTuXnht5Z1S7qKl7tMuF9E/s640/IMG_1264.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Falls!<br />Las cataratas!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUzWR919tM80wVG8X7-Eda8pB_5GrKzN3N7ZkVeL2AY3lUp9MF5ZpDvob2Y3fMJj2q2pIpoYzFrow2rOpYmGxorUgS-eetkhRCeLvuntDbazkzuJdU8vT0M7ygVmFrZEWQcnK4RyNNZg/s1600/IMG_1266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUzWR919tM80wVG8X7-Eda8pB_5GrKzN3N7ZkVeL2AY3lUp9MF5ZpDvob2Y3fMJj2q2pIpoYzFrow2rOpYmGxorUgS-eetkhRCeLvuntDbazkzuJdU8vT0M7ygVmFrZEWQcnK4RyNNZg/s640/IMG_1266.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we got close to the falls we stopped the boat next to a big rock and took pictures on it before turning around... I could have stayed there forever!<br />Cuando llegamos más cerca de las cataratas con el bote paramos al lado de una roca, nos subimos y sacamos fotos antes de volver al hotel... me podría haber quedado ahí para siempre!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UiyHb_SIoPIfqiZ99AU48ya1u1_cxeQl-b6fGnVb1dL3kovepT4rwXOu0lMXxQbDsSFAedkiIzOAP9ypl4uHyf0s7i4gEB90MZV87xrsOx4ENmo_-vfsPl9SEqJr3I36RTUSeny6Z8Q/s1600/IMG_1270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UiyHb_SIoPIfqiZ99AU48ya1u1_cxeQl-b6fGnVb1dL3kovepT4rwXOu0lMXxQbDsSFAedkiIzOAP9ypl4uHyf0s7i4gEB90MZV87xrsOx4ENmo_-vfsPl9SEqJr3I36RTUSeny6Z8Q/s640/IMG_1270.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Nile.<br />El Nilo, una maravilla dificil de explicar con palabras.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo_cvODWhtSJdAKXZW_TuqBolDZkomEDlCjoE8Yu7aMRplpR6RVL56eZaD0VJD5mquksIdnPBVWU8HC67LzpZlVEObEcSV_RX9qmaqftKGjReTZpExr8ON_RZGLZRJREj9JzrkWD30QA/s1600/IMG_1287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo_cvODWhtSJdAKXZW_TuqBolDZkomEDlCjoE8Yu7aMRplpR6RVL56eZaD0VJD5mquksIdnPBVWU8HC67LzpZlVEObEcSV_RX9qmaqftKGjReTZpExr8ON_RZGLZRJREj9JzrkWD30QA/s640/IMG_1287.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">La pasamos mal en la picsina.. con el Nilo al lado.. y el bar ..</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNyAnmFGiefW38VZ-EfjvscO6ZgvgW4zAc38UIbFw7m8WqUGOSc6mZOPmmP81DoJKwK-j5xYQIi63RcaP2uwrhb0difIRuQ7Hpn1_ve9z2xDtvWW6r7MdZ16kY7aofaTGVyUcuajBHSQ/s1600/IMG_1290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNyAnmFGiefW38VZ-EfjvscO6ZgvgW4zAc38UIbFw7m8WqUGOSc6mZOPmmP81DoJKwK-j5xYQIi63RcaP2uwrhb0difIRuQ7Hpn1_ve9z2xDtvWW6r7MdZ16kY7aofaTGVyUcuajBHSQ/s640/IMG_1290.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Uno de esos cuartitos era mio!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfDE4WN5MPW-G-yeMHFSuiCBEL0J-q2c7r0AzlZr6Ps8vT0qQIxIKP3IZYPKgDTcXOqDLWzGQtv3pA9C7muFSTT-bpYIprK3o9_d0jOXrKQ9VmCe2Xgvhujn229c5XnGCo1kxKmPTkz8/s1600/Leeann1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfDE4WN5MPW-G-yeMHFSuiCBEL0J-q2c7r0AzlZr6Ps8vT0qQIxIKP3IZYPKgDTcXOqDLWzGQtv3pA9C7muFSTT-bpYIprK3o9_d0jOXrKQ9VmCe2Xgvhujn229c5XnGCo1kxKmPTkz8/s640/Leeann1.JPG" width="576" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yep, I turned 20 here! The girls surprised me with a cake and everything! It was very funny, I thought the cake was for someone else when the waiters were bringing it over and was commenting on how nice they were to make a cake for someone... and then it was for me! <br />Sipi, cumpli 20 en Africa! Y las chicas me sorprendieron con una torta y todo! Fue muy gracioso ese momento porque yo no sabía que era para mi y justo estaba comentando sobre lo bueno que eran los mosos por que los veia llevando una torta... pero se fueron acercando y acercando.. y terminé siendo yo a la que se la llavaban!<br />Photo taken by LeeAnn</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQFMqApcRwLFNZMVzXLnQ75z9_DSmWXQ4EMCOsgkPMSTS2lZ6Rj1IAJUAg2nbt6ONwqW6OFjdOd_f050oFwI1r4Rs8gMqgWE0QIRztegPwEI9nDFQ-8PHLnwHQXCPuYLWRek1wqTP5Ac/s1600/SAM_3178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQFMqApcRwLFNZMVzXLnQ75z9_DSmWXQ4EMCOsgkPMSTS2lZ6Rj1IAJUAg2nbt6ONwqW6OFjdOd_f050oFwI1r4Rs8gMqgWE0QIRztegPwEI9nDFQ-8PHLnwHQXCPuYLWRek1wqTP5Ac/s640/SAM_3178.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Behind me are the hippos chilling like they always do.<br />Atras mio están los hipopotamos... haciendo nada como siempre. :)<br />Photo taken by Sam</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLGRYTQz-ZkoUSIA95tiuQBiA9DR_7caqAN1fEiKZhkLvbevAcpGDLWnkfi05eAwORqReZYC0An8u63zt1wHrDLxBIdv2-N2rVUOrWDuzxSsbCEPe88KClyy3rFudQsFkIjP9JB9KZ38/s1600/justin.jpg2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLGRYTQz-ZkoUSIA95tiuQBiA9DR_7caqAN1fEiKZhkLvbevAcpGDLWnkfi05eAwORqReZYC0An8u63zt1wHrDLxBIdv2-N2rVUOrWDuzxSsbCEPe88KClyy3rFudQsFkIjP9JB9KZ38/s640/justin.jpg2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">On top of the falls with Fr. Kizito... we were completely soaked!<br />Arriba de las cataratas con Fr Kizito... nos empapamos todas!<br />Photo taken by Justin</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMEWMpaFg2efN1-13AzP4xKggrCWUlAESsAFUHkLJ4MnYafnTWr0-TlqQHh7jcSz8wUHd-KhWXv_KjMvmvs74A8Gd6EHab9yqevf4EMqJnbatct_roUIOSHdmbscNPaHGRN_1oQlhRV0/s1600/nora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMEWMpaFg2efN1-13AzP4xKggrCWUlAESsAFUHkLJ4MnYafnTWr0-TlqQHh7jcSz8wUHd-KhWXv_KjMvmvs74A8Gd6EHab9yqevf4EMqJnbatct_roUIOSHdmbscNPaHGRN_1oQlhRV0/s640/nora.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">El el bote de paseito por el Nilo con un elefante atras mio. :)<br />Photo taken by Nora</span></td></tr>
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<br />magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-59212133225506555942012-07-19T21:44:00.000-07:002014-10-15T22:12:09.921-07:00The Power of Photography<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Day
6: The Power of Photography 20
May 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Ever since yesterday I cannot stop
thinking about Justine and her friends, they way their faces lit up when they
saw the camera, held it, saw the pictures that were taken. I love photography and taking pictures, but their enthusiasm for it was far beyond what I have ever
experienced. It was absolutely
incredible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> The joy that one picture, especially
a portrait, brings these children is something I cannot even explain with
words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> When I think about how some of these
children may have never seen themselves in a mirror, let alone a camera or a photograph of
themselves… I try, but can’t quite comprehend what that must feel like. I grew up looking in the mirror, taking
pictures all the time and posing and having “model photoshoots” with my sister
when bored. I cannot remember the first
time I saw a camera, my picture, my reflection in a mirror, anything… for me it
is just… normal. It was bewildering to
learn that this was not the case for these children. I had never sat down and pondered about
this. If I had, of course the idea does
not seem irrational or far-fetched, but since it is such a normal thing for me,
I never thought of thinking of the power a photograph can have prior to coming
here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Some children know that muzungus (white people) have cameras that show the image in the back, and after taking their picture
they look at you and at the camera, waiting for you to turn it around and show
them the result. Others are surprised
when this happens. But all of them, no
exceptions, laugh like crazy when they see themselves on the screen! A timid laugh, but such a joyous one! True, true happiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So Happy!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> There are also those that have asked
me to take a “snap” of them. The ones
that know a little English say “photo?”
And the children… they just look at the camera with those beautiful
eyes, full of excitement, enthusiasm and curiosity. Often they do not speak, but it is not hard
to decipher what they want.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> On the day we went to the market a
young man walked towards me from one of the fabric shops and standing straight
and still in front of me asked, “my photograph?” I never saw that man again, I interacted with
him for about one minute and then he left, and I left. He saw his picture for about five
seconds. I took the camera, with his
photograph. He wasn’t even able to keep
the photograph, but he was still so happy and excited to have it taken. Then
there are those that have little interest in the camera and become offended if
asked to take a picture of them, like the ginger woman at the market. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> I find the stark contrast very
interesting, yet so logical. Just like
when we were walking around the market and everyone looked at us, taking
pictures sometimes receives a similar response.
And I could not understand them more.
Who are we to go around taking pictures of people, as if they were
museum pieces, or pretty flowers with bees on them? Since when have people and their
surroundings, because they are so drastically different from our reality,
become an object of art? Of exotic
material worth showing to our friends and families so that they may see how far
we went, how poor the people are, how horrible their lives are, how much they
suffer. Again, we have no right to do so
and should be ashamed if that is what our objective is when we point the camera
at someone or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> This had crossed my mind before,
while in the US, but I had never pondered on it, nor did I know the answer to
whether or not that was actually the reality.
Realizing this has truly challenged me to reflect and question myself as
to why… why do I take pictures of these people and their country? Am I unconsciously doing the same thing that
upon reflection find so repulsive?
Treating people as objects?
Artifacts from a far off land, from another reality? As a sort of entertainment to show first world
citizens to widen their knowledge of the world?
I will be honest, this is not something that has been easy for me to
do. Today I was taking some pictures of
a few children we saw along the road and these questions and thoughts kept
bugging me. I want to believe that I am
not using my photography for these reasons.
And I truly think that that is the truth. But I can’t help but to think that it could
well be mistaken for all those selfish motives.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> In reality, there are various
reasons why I am so interested in photographing the people here in Uganda. And yes, one reason is because of the empathy
component. Back in the US I saw many
pictures of African children, on National Geographic, on the internet, on
pamphlets of charities and NGO’s asking for donations to help the starving
children. These photographs caused such
empathy in me that more than once I donated money, read more about an issue,
and tried to tell my friends, family and myself to be more grateful for what we
have. And I know that others with more
economic resources donate larger amounts of money, and travel to places like
Uganda to help people, and create foundations, and build hospitals and schools
like many of the ones we see here. And
all because of photographs that they saw of individuals living in a reality
different from theirs. This is one of
the aims I hope to achieve with my photography here. But I have noticed that that is not as easily
said than done. There is a fine line
that separates the search for empathy in others and the use of human beings as
objects of marketing, status or profit.
And it is that line that scares me.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> However, once I started reflecting
on this, I realized that apart from the fact that I hope that one day my
photography can help these individuals and not just remain as memories of a
journey, there is something else about Uganda that draws me to photograph it. And that, I found out is the happiness of the
children. It is so REAL. HAPPINESS as I have never seen it
before. The children here are carefree,
liberated, independent, brave, strong, curious, and confident. I am not sure why, but I just cannot help but
to try to capture their character in their photographs. I don’t know if I photograph them because I
want to remember their faces, their smiles, and their spirit, or simply because
I want others to see their beautiful smiles.
Those reasons seem so selfish to me that it’s hard to think about them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> But there is one aspect, the most
important, about the children in particular that makes me want to spend hours
and hours photographing them (as opposed to most adults or places) and that
makes me feel better about the selfish reasons: their response. Like I said, they get so happy when they see
their picture! They have very difficult
lives, yet they see themselves on a screen and they seem to be the happiest
children in the entire world! I keep on telling myself that I am making them
happy with my photography, and thus, I am not doing anything wrong. But am I?
Is this just an excuse that my unconscious mind is making? Am I just another self centered girl with a
camera taking pictures of poor little Ugandan children to show my friends and
family? I hope not. Yes, I want my friends and family to see
them, their smiles are so beautiful and their laugh so contagious. And I want to somehow help them! But
how? Is photography really going to do
that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> I am getting confused. I am going to sleep; it’s too late to be
thinking about this, I will get a headache. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16.516515731811523px; line-height: 24.024023056030273px;"> …. Maybe that’s an excuse too…</span><br />
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magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-79207438161814303312012-07-13T22:04:00.001-07:002012-07-13T22:30:37.187-07:00Justine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Part of Day 5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
most beautiful part of the day was actually after the teaching, and after we
had lunch on the large field. (Lunch was
also very interesting… we ate before everyone else, on chairs, while everyone
looked at us. Again, I felt as if they
were treating me as superior to them. I
am getting used to the fact that I will probably always feel that way whenever
I encounter anyone in Uganda… unfortunately.)
So, after lunch we were sitting on the grass, chatting and waiting for
the next part of the day, the report reading and presentations by the church
groups. We did not have anything to do but
wait, so I grabbed my camera and went out to explore the area. I took pictures of some cows (the cows here have
large horns on top of their heads, very interesting, not like any I have ever
seen before), some children playing, and some women dressed in beautiful
traditional attire. And then, like
always, I was drawn in by the flowers.
Behind the church I found some beautiful ones, with little bees on them,
and began snapping away. All of a sudden
I sense someone to my right, I look up and there was a girl standing there,
looking at me with a shy and curious smile.
I smiled back and said “Oliotya!”
She responded with the familiar giggle that I have now become accustomed
to whenever we say anything in Lugandan.
I looked past her a little and noticed there were other children,
too. Hiding behind the church wall there
were four more, timidly observing their brave friend as she approach this
muzungu taking silly pictures of flowers and bees. The girl was dressed with a blue skirt, and
simple green and white T-shirt; and she just looked at me. Prior to going out on my photographic
adventure I had asked Father Kizito how to say “may I take a picture of you?”
just in case I found someone along the way that caught my attention. So, overjoyed with enthusiasm and using my
newly learned (and very poor) Lugandan I said to her “nkukube ekifananye?” Her smile told me “yee” (yes).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVx5f9-m23j2mz-t02i-YlRsoK76l4SYdvXdYnd3tBqXyCjcgSflxZN183tDp6b5qsrHNz2Jb7vKbFOuAM83prn5X4_bwzrM7i9Sm9Nu4ImspmJWhDK3_qVXBJbCM7hozU0MELSAPof8/s1600/IMG_0188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVx5f9-m23j2mz-t02i-YlRsoK76l4SYdvXdYnd3tBqXyCjcgSflxZN183tDp6b5qsrHNz2Jb7vKbFOuAM83prn5X4_bwzrM7i9Sm9Nu4ImspmJWhDK3_qVXBJbCM7hozU0MELSAPof8/s640/IMG_0188.JPG" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZauSOivVJ455IpnH9n2w9AcHDx8oC8kDDi7R7pz4uhswutSwhg_K09NhzuA88zSBEps0aZwJDiBXmDbc3nUBFhtqVqVTgT4YIdYWeAOQoEo4Nh1zyCWnwTOuQc6XFw4fw04z7ud_418/s1600/IMG_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZauSOivVJ455IpnH9n2w9AcHDx8oC8kDDi7R7pz4uhswutSwhg_K09NhzuA88zSBEps0aZwJDiBXmDbc3nUBFhtqVqVTgT4YIdYWeAOQoEo4Nh1zyCWnwTOuQc6XFw4fw04z7ud_418/s640/IMG_0190.JPG" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> And thus, I began to photograph Justine,
pausing between each one to show her the result and hear her contagious laugh
in response. Soon, another girl came
towards us from behind the church wall… and then another… and another. After speaking to Justine, and she reassuring
her friends about me, they approached me, stood still and smiled at me (which I
have learned is their way of saying, “take a picture!”) I took pictures of every single one of them,
alone, together, silly ones, ones they didn’t notice I was taking, even some of
their hands. I did not tell them to do so,
but all of a sudden, the flowers I was previously photographing became props to
our photographs). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVi_RXm38Cj5pDOzayjDEe_p5qelSh7WWc8Wl40dxBkXhsdIUNAnfd6JrwU3MwreFrOt1DLt2pC8MOfU_Dehsc6AaQJjYenNGiDpl0nt-867gP0RQcRtbJQogYg3x0M6HE0S-Wg68J1U/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVi_RXm38Cj5pDOzayjDEe_p5qelSh7WWc8Wl40dxBkXhsdIUNAnfd6JrwU3MwreFrOt1DLt2pC8MOfU_Dehsc6AaQJjYenNGiDpl0nt-867gP0RQcRtbJQogYg3x0M6HE0S-Wg68J1U/s640/IMG_0195.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They chose the flowers as props.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5v74l5ofXlmibMu_tD2h6nUuNHsXKWZHHoRNsfibCq5gaf5zaSP6_b6WzUd6aqV5T0Tpv2jSrUaDBtkV3-aoxoaafsuWfPAiBc78M8QqSkEEa_q9yeSElQyZjj7MCDzAXU0lj1SLdbs/s1600/IMG_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5v74l5ofXlmibMu_tD2h6nUuNHsXKWZHHoRNsfibCq5gaf5zaSP6_b6WzUd6aqV5T0Tpv2jSrUaDBtkV3-aoxoaafsuWfPAiBc78M8QqSkEEa_q9yeSElQyZjj7MCDzAXU0lj1SLdbs/s640/IMG_0209.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justine behind the church with the flowers they had been planting.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> After
some time, their enthusiasm was wonderful to see and they felt more comfortable
with me and me with them. Without thinking
twice about it, I said to Justine “you want to try?” She looked at me and nodded eagerly with a
smile that stretched ear to ear. Very carefully
she held my camera and I taught her how to look through it, zoom and take a
picture. I gathered with the other
children and Justine took a picture of us.
Then, one by one, with Justine translating how to work the camera, they
all took pictures of one another, of me with them, of the flowers, and some
accidental ones of the floor and the brick wall of the church. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2Mzhdxmt4nU3bqqIuKjjXToX3wB549vvtmEADZpbQForJPR6pWUFX6f0z0IUAk-NNs0IHrHv8P2csYU183QJRwgfat1Tzigr0iJ2DaAlgFl8KwkjaLu6Yciu_eRBTwV5TF0y9iZoGb8/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2Mzhdxmt4nU3bqqIuKjjXToX3wB549vvtmEADZpbQForJPR6pWUFX6f0z0IUAk-NNs0IHrHv8P2csYU183QJRwgfat1Tzigr0iJ2DaAlgFl8KwkjaLu6Yciu_eRBTwV5TF0y9iZoGb8/s640/IMG_0214.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Unfortunately, when I realized that the field
was no longer noisy like when I left it and looked around the church to find it
empty, I had to tell them that it was time for me to go. Relentlessly and sad I left them planting
pretty little flowers for bees to visit at the back of the church, with the
promise that when I returned to the US I would mail the pictures of Justine and
her friends to the parish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8fJMoluY_3KiPHE3QQTWPGZvAGmnwMfxMH2Q7S3_yeXDHrzHGaWp0UdXTa2q7mgjpIw6cnqM2acmrkz4w0Wtv1JG-i5fPYJYYAGBCOf56TYisx5fhS6c3Vk8GOeCnrBuE83QOoAFWg0/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8fJMoluY_3KiPHE3QQTWPGZvAGmnwMfxMH2Q7S3_yeXDHrzHGaWp0UdXTa2q7mgjpIw6cnqM2acmrkz4w0Wtv1JG-i5fPYJYYAGBCOf56TYisx5fhS6c3Vk8GOeCnrBuE83QOoAFWg0/s640/IMG_0202.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken by one of the children</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Don´t forget to Like my Facebook page to see all of the pictures! There are lots more of Justine and her friends!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">No se olviden de ir a mi página de Facebook, ahí están todas las fotos! Hay muchas más de Justine y sus amigos!</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</a></div>
<br />
<br />magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-84156563854710590942012-07-13T19:48:00.000-07:002012-07-13T22:29:22.707-07:00Day 5: The first fair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> 19
May 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9MW1zeznZbf_zccUkPIjYunC03jeWoDtzisX6LZqe_4-QZIcWVUxvsQhyphenhypheniXuGtOZnqvP5st-ltpcuuckIHh1CDq_gXqDgpVMmG9m0zZXq-OJ4gXQfpUNzTDKSXZmW88P0KvW3pEe0Zo/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9MW1zeznZbf_zccUkPIjYunC03jeWoDtzisX6LZqe_4-QZIcWVUxvsQhyphenhypheniXuGtOZnqvP5st-ltpcuuckIHh1CDq_gXqDgpVMmG9m0zZXq-OJ4gXQfpUNzTDKSXZmW88P0KvW3pEe0Zo/s640/IMG_0050.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fair was held at a parish, and this field was in front of it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: .5in 5.0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> The fair today went pretty
well. There were SO many people! But, to be honest, the part that I enjoyed
the most was not the teaching. Again, I
got that funny feeling when I was teaching both children and grown adults how
to brush their teeth, wash their hands and build a <a href="http://www.tippytap.org/">Tippy Tap</a>. Aside from teaching them how to built a
washing station, we also gave them soap bars (although they quickly ran out),
tooth brushes, and floss. Similarly,
other groups gave other things out, relevant to their presentations: seeds,
cloth to make feminine pads, food, etc.
Our subject was so rudimentary and basic that I felt a little uneasy
teaching it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJNGI7Wn_H9df6q0jEq7MB8acaUYWTcU4RygA_uMxm_M3IclnrnDhadYjPCin0c-pTQsEf5G0rdqbD-jCSu1PB5oeg2BILciXiXqubiWrfTb1DV3USQ_YhQFBoQrlBkIw-gLSJqRZ2qY/s1600/IMG_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJNGI7Wn_H9df6q0jEq7MB8acaUYWTcU4RygA_uMxm_M3IclnrnDhadYjPCin0c-pTQsEf5G0rdqbD-jCSu1PB5oeg2BILciXiXqubiWrfTb1DV3USQ_YhQFBoQrlBkIw-gLSJqRZ2qY/s640/IMG_0053.JPG" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day started off with a beautiful, moving mass. The church was all decorated with bright colorful ribbons and flowers and the singing... I have never heard anything like it!! By the end of each son the whole group was tearing up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: .5in 5.0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> What was interesting however, as
well as sad and in a way reassuring of the fact that my teaching was truly
beneficial, were some of the questions that the audience asked. For
example, one man asked me very earnestly, “Miss, does tooth paste have any
secondary effects that we should be careful about? Can it harm us?” In EVERY group <i>(in the second fair, too!)</i> someone asked how long tooth brushes
last… four months? …One month? … one day?
AND… most surprising of all, they all asked if they could brush their
teeth with salt, soap, and ASHES!
Apparently, there is a myth here (actually there seem to be a great
number of them) that says that it is better to brush your teeth with ashes,
because it cleans them better than tooth paste! </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_vTrxOgLCsEP0KE7QIY0cUpkRqmrfzx-dJvO6tqOkz9hDTGdYAxUmftPkvT9NZ8rVkBuuTmeiQkeboQmsKLNEons5LDKF0ghaW2piN6kTL8_ZM80NYSIZQJOe528c9wv8pEwGH_gB5M/s1600/IMG_0074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_vTrxOgLCsEP0KE7QIY0cUpkRqmrfzx-dJvO6tqOkz9hDTGdYAxUmftPkvT9NZ8rVkBuuTmeiQkeboQmsKLNEons5LDKF0ghaW2piN6kTL8_ZM80NYSIZQJOe528c9wv8pEwGH_gB5M/s640/IMG_0074.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and Monica busy teaching about how to start a business</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN9xOqzrLKiX8488_3tO9IQ4-NNuPamx_9XhKuDl0AcRsjMmdIbbw4hbTfWYkJR11CSY5aZJYVvU8hwbZQBX4eHWnYpL7yn6s9CvNh_y5sSotzS2DVrPv4lAyk5H8f40jITvg3qmEbyQ/s1600/IMG_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN9xOqzrLKiX8488_3tO9IQ4-NNuPamx_9XhKuDl0AcRsjMmdIbbw4hbTfWYkJR11CSY5aZJYVvU8hwbZQBX4eHWnYpL7yn6s9CvNh_y5sSotzS2DVrPv4lAyk5H8f40jITvg3qmEbyQ/s640/IMG_0123.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nora and Sandy gave out seeds during their presentation. We took thousands! and the people were so grateful and happy to receive them!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"> On a side note, Fr. Kizito also told us about another myth that says
that malaria pills, the ones prescribed to sick patients, actually cause the
malaria to exacerbate!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">How do these
people believe such myths?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">Such lies
that to us seem too clear and irrational… to many here they are the truth!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">Harder still… how does one convince those who
have lived and believed in those myths for decades that they are false?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">How does one convince others of something
that to them is just as irrational and erroneous as the myths are to us?</span></div>
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKZgWWEj80PZOdUdH-LYbWdd_QjMLJ0d9wvLRuXmYGLPzQZ-dfmczNeW24trQBPyw69uqu6ithKf5Rym9efATdxCgRVGzbGK25t-iFiDZc8gqFhihbL67MLWtQReoJEsfS2wClbl-9TA/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKZgWWEj80PZOdUdH-LYbWdd_QjMLJ0d9wvLRuXmYGLPzQZ-dfmczNeW24trQBPyw69uqu6ithKf5Rym9efATdxCgRVGzbGK25t-iFiDZc8gqFhihbL67MLWtQReoJEsfS2wClbl-9TA/s640/IMG_0060.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our group and the youth leaders of the Mityana dioceses in front of the church.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7l-XTZd_zS8FWC-fZVqpgiCNxTchwyAptFAEFojdD6iBsRFY7tHRPea1EQxzkG1-L-eD49OFtJeo-iQmc539NphVq5OVtat22pUup-ZSOG1HAbybIDbR-pKn_dZVlrdub2V_v0824rl0/s1600/IMG_0158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7l-XTZd_zS8FWC-fZVqpgiCNxTchwyAptFAEFojdD6iBsRFY7tHRPea1EQxzkG1-L-eD49OFtJeo-iQmc539NphVq5OVtat22pUup-ZSOG1HAbybIDbR-pKn_dZVlrdub2V_v0824rl0/s640/IMG_0158.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After lunch I went for a walk to shoot a little and found this boy who over and over again tried to get onto the bike, finally, after various tries he was able to get up and ride away, leaving just a cloud of dust behind.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">-Magda</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Don´t forget to Like my Facebook page to see all of the pictures!</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">No se olviden de ir a mi página de Facebook, ahí están todas las fotos! </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</a></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-7664025042129666682012-07-12T21:16:00.000-07:002012-07-13T22:28:39.766-07:00Day 4: In the land of red and green<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
17 May 2012</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Another one of the thousands of things that have
impressed me about Uganda ever since I was looking down from the plane was the
land and its </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">colors</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The ground here is red, </span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">RED</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It is made of clay
instead of just dirt and that is why it has such a strong color.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">When it gets wet it feels as if you are
walking on spilled paint and becomes very slippery.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">That is why when we went to the market the
other day, with our Tom’s and flip flops, we all more than once nearly face
planted on the piles of food, the people, or just the mud itself.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">One time, one of us slipped and almost fell
and all of the women around us began to laugh and laugh!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It was very funny, and now that I look back
and imagine ourselves from a third person perspective I find myself laughing as
well.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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</div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-69767044475587159322012-07-05T22:52:00.000-07:002012-07-13T22:28:18.820-07:00Day 3 Part 2: Margaret´s Village<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Yesterday,
after we ate, we went to the village where Fr. Kizito’s mother lives.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">ABSOLUTELY AMAZING.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I thought I had seen poverty, but as
we left the downtown of Mityana Kizito turned to me and said, “those people
that live there (among the dirt of the city, walking on muddy roads, eating
dirty meat taken from the ground, and fish that live in waters so intoxicated
that they look black and dehydrated at the same time) … that’s the middle class.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The lower class was what I was about
to see. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> On the sides of the dirt/muddy road
that lead to Margaret’s village everything looked like a jungle. The few huts that appeared here and there
were made out of brick with metal sheets as roofs. The surroundings were full of palm trees,
bushes, trees, and green, green, green!<o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Some of the houses had people in front of them. Women sitting on the ground cooking, children running around and playing, some were boiling water or making a fire. Without fail, every house had the famous light yellow jerry cans lying around that they use to fetch water. Some of the women were dressed with the traditional attire: dresses with pointy shoulders, colorful fabrics, and often a thick belt tied at the front and hanging) </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjayz-_hr929wia9xnEYcBfubrBCAKKaM4LDeqD7RdMzJ5mlc4xd9sJ3PRk8FHoLiGPkPZIck2c5Q1ASFfZWi6kcH-nIEF3z0GMibgF3RclgmuYZMvvHZ56jxyW1y2-uGkk22vdRqRm8fE/s640/IMG_0167.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="548" /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This
is a picture of a women dressed in traditional attire that I took a few days later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white;">Many children were dressed in school
uniforms.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">And others… others were
dressed with what was once clothing.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">On
the side of the road children walked to school in their uniforms, some carrying
books, others with their hands empty, women carrying straw on their heads (that
they use to make crafts), more children carrying water home, men in bicycles.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF46xVPLPlnoyqOatiJ_J_J-qqOofR1e5WTrNYbrAK8P0k78LtETMIc3SNCX9przzNFFTxq85sDa9L6CwrhW-7bMWiYWEWxhNAC8OZUiZVZgXcXxlwEwe2k3lDEUW-MJZdtlWraKVLUho/s1600/IMG_9497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF46xVPLPlnoyqOatiJ_J_J-qqOofR1e5WTrNYbrAK8P0k78LtETMIc3SNCX9przzNFFTxq85sDa9L6CwrhW-7bMWiYWEWxhNAC8OZUiZVZgXcXxlwEwe2k3lDEUW-MJZdtlWraKVLUho/s640/IMG_9497.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This
picture was taken by Lake Wamala, where we went the following day, but this is how
most of the houses looked. Except here they
are much closer together, usually each house had a little bit of land surrounding
it and separating it from its neighbors. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Finally
we got the Margaret’s home. Oh, I forgot to mention, she is called Margaret
because in Uganda almost everyone has two names, one in Lugandan and one in English. I think I recall someone telling me that it
had something to do with the Church, baptism… but I am not positive)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> We entered into her little living
room, a luxurious house compared to what we saw on our way there, and
introduced ourselves. Then we went over
to the school to meet with the children.
When we were coming in with the car we had seen them playing around on
the large field since the school was in front of her house. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> As we approached the kids I nearly
had a nervous breakdown/heart attack/serious case of tearing up. There were about 50 children, all with their
dark green uniforms (one could tell which ones went to school and which didn’t
since there were some dressed in regular clothing). In front of them were 10 chairs for us. I looked at Brittany who was walking next to
me and we both said, “No! they put chairs for us! I don’t want to sit on chairs
and they on the ground, I want to sit with them!” Again, I go that weird feeling. Of course it is an honor and I feel very
grateful for the kindness, but I just don’t like people to think of me as superior
to them, or worse, having people feel inferior to me, even if it is just out of
respect. But what happened next left me
with goosebumps, mute, and not knowing what to do. All of a sudden all of the children who were
sitting down rose up and began to applaud!
And it wasn’t just any applause either, it had rhythm and
everything! Shy and embarrassed I sat in
one of the chairs and just stayed there looking at them while they kept on
clapping and clapping away!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xbcQuegyAam19bgfotIXpgwmKN2rXhSuyVleM9WiWFkdXoqxZFrP0wprxv4dr_Iw1iRxAFROsrzkqA2oOuB__A3CTeYNIKusAfL9oexx5a3srLLQRcuY0UflaItWjigy04DPIKwXiJ8/s1600/533186_419477891406593_794402252_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xbcQuegyAam19bgfotIXpgwmKN2rXhSuyVleM9WiWFkdXoqxZFrP0wprxv4dr_Iw1iRxAFROsrzkqA2oOuB__A3CTeYNIKusAfL9oexx5a3srLLQRcuY0UflaItWjigy04DPIKwXiJ8/s640/533186_419477891406593_794402252_n.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The beautiful
children of Margaret’s village.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Fr.
Kizito introduced us and we said our names.
Then Sister Carla showed them how to use the chlorinator that we brought
for them. When it came time to make the
chlorine you could hear “uuuuu”s and “aaaa”s and shy laughter. That is one of the things that I love about
the children here! They laugh all the
time! About anything! We wave at them from the van and they stop
what they are doing, and start jumping up and down, screaming and laughing and
waving both of their hands in the air. And when I take their picture… oh my.. then they just die! They go crazy!! One time, I was taking pictures of the little
children and one of them asked “could you take a picture of me alone?” “yes of
course!” But by the time that it took me
to get the camera, hanging from my neck, to my eye, I looked through it and
instead of 1, there were 10 children, pushing each other to appear in the photograph. And when I showed them the photo, because
they are very smart and clearly know that when “mzungu” come they have cameras
that show they picture in the back, they would literally throw themselves on
top of me and knock me down! And when they found each other in the photo
they would scream and everyone would yell that person’s name and they were just
so, so happy! I truly, truly fell in
love with those children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_JiSlq0xnzZOgDwNrboutx3vYHm5sj7FvdWMEebUUitDmEs57T4Qu-aUxl_fjDbLSdVaFsQ9knlY1tprONla8d4ymZfPDUsxq_UfpyQrXsZzbZpv-AgMNFY8nltjjV6WWpLzdyFa2UE/s1600/leean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_JiSlq0xnzZOgDwNrboutx3vYHm5sj7FvdWMEebUUitDmEs57T4Qu-aUxl_fjDbLSdVaFsQ9knlY1tprONla8d4ymZfPDUsxq_UfpyQrXsZzbZpv-AgMNFY8nltjjV6WWpLzdyFa2UE/s640/leean.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The children
seeing their photographs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Photo taken by LeeAnn</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> After meeting the school and the
women groups some of the girls and I went over to play with the children.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">We taught them some games and songs and they
did the same.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">When we finished showing
them how the filter works, as a way to show us their gratitude, they sung us a
beautiful song about education with a choreography and everything, and then we
asked them to teach it to us when we were playing.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">We taught them how to play duck duck goose and
had so much fun!</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">At first they did not
understand that you are supposed to tag the other person and would just run
around behind each other until they sat down.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">It was so funny to try to communicate!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6OWRb39Qf2tr3sZVPYiD679sDsgcwXRszNoMKGRaWTA78U4TgYHHSHxsdjNba4GM53hltxvQHSdE3TJ_X_uSMUBYqvQTfriBMpTBPCdDplAC8KYbQvkCEdruvAUa2-2SxfBW-QOOBjg/s1600/britt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6OWRb39Qf2tr3sZVPYiD679sDsgcwXRszNoMKGRaWTA78U4TgYHHSHxsdjNba4GM53hltxvQHSdE3TJ_X_uSMUBYqvQTfriBMpTBPCdDplAC8KYbQvkCEdruvAUa2-2SxfBW-QOOBjg/s1600/britt.JPG" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Playing
duck duck goose with the children<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Photo taken by Brittany</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The children’s
HAPPINESS impressed me and made me so, so HAPPY!<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Not all of the children talked or
understood English, but it was beautiful to see how at times when we told them
something and they didn’t understand, others that did understand would come and
translate for the rest!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Fr. Kizito also introduced us to two
groups of woman that make crafts to sell.
They were all dressed with the traditional clothing, (they all looked so
beautiful and dressed up I felt underdressed with my dirty clothes and my
untidy hair). They got SO happy when
LeeAnn gave each group $100 as a gift and we bought a lot of their work! They would clap and do that typical African
“scream” that goes something like “aiaiaiaiaiaiaiaaiai!!!!” I love it!! I bought a beautiful colorful weaved basket
from one of the ladies and when we left she nearly cried!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxyDVwJxCRkCa9tSxBibrm8KN1nff9QQ10ine3K9vKnH2Wz5mFva-WK-pchDY5dP8nzlAY0c9aeUYfIgozVr9mms5cL4p22qCH81WyEDW8CqybfqBLYrqobFrAITdlhTUm0LYYvF8Wi0/s1600/brit+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxyDVwJxCRkCa9tSxBibrm8KN1nff9QQ10ine3K9vKnH2Wz5mFva-WK-pchDY5dP8nzlAY0c9aeUYfIgozVr9mms5cL4p22qCH81WyEDW8CqybfqBLYrqobFrAITdlhTUm0LYYvF8Wi0/s1600/brit+(2).JPG" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Photo taken by Brittany</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMM0xiK4_CbeBZQ5qhglq0X15EgVmqO58iCxtTVTB3yAFJ0wZdhydQA4UmC6PxVqF0Wh75qSBx8ITkjBfCh4lXTuInRTo2UbKSTn4P3X6RKKYCkFqnZ6QwmFyO3eYy4Tj6IEwAYYfzBs/s1600/314277_419479391406443_58419404_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMM0xiK4_CbeBZQ5qhglq0X15EgVmqO58iCxtTVTB3yAFJ0wZdhydQA4UmC6PxVqF0Wh75qSBx8ITkjBfCh4lXTuInRTo2UbKSTn4P3X6RKKYCkFqnZ6QwmFyO3eYy4Tj6IEwAYYfzBs/s640/314277_419479391406443_58419404_n.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The women groups that sold us their crafts.</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Don´t forget to Like my Facebook page and see all of the pictures!</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.33333396911621px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">No se olviden de ir a mi página de Facebook, ahí están todas las fotos! </span></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</a></div>
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<br />magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-80755762112941767592012-06-24T15:48:00.002-07:002012-06-24T15:48:38.637-07:00Pausa por unos días<div style="text-align: center;">
Hola todos! Espero que les este gustando el relato de mi viaje a Uganda! Hoy me voy a acampar con mi familia a Santa Cruz, CA, por unos días y no voy a volver hasta el viernes. Cuando vuelva sigo con los cuentos! Que tengan una linda semana!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Hello everyone! I hope you are enjoying reading the stories from my trip! Today I am leaving to go camping with my family in Santa Cruz, CA, and will not be able to upload anything until I return on Friday. Then, I will continue to post the journal of the trip. Have a lovely week!</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj5qEJPFvWostbB3gFulz5Cfn6gkeyizLKcMDL_vvFueSDexBLcI9nMcHOX4bJ9YvhvMYhI9TNDA3uc4FMzGVNTt5pVx8Q7TMnpM1qjUCRrOtxc_jUdT0qahyphenhyphens_xQlzxI50xuXWjXLC0/s1600/IMG_5479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj5qEJPFvWostbB3gFulz5Cfn6gkeyizLKcMDL_vvFueSDexBLcI9nMcHOX4bJ9YvhvMYhI9TNDA3uc4FMzGVNTt5pVx8Q7TMnpM1qjUCRrOtxc_jUdT0qahyphenhyphens_xQlzxI50xuXWjXLC0/s640/IMG_5479.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acá les dejo una foto de donde voy a estar.<br />Here is where I will be!</td></tr>
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-Magda</div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-54461758010691045292012-06-21T22:45:00.000-07:002012-07-12T21:32:06.235-07:00Day 3: Some eating and mind wandering in Mityana<br />
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> 17
May 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> Yesterday, after the market we went
to eat at a restaurant recommended by Justin, a journalist grad of UC Berkeley
that we met here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> The traditional Ugandan food that we
ate there “matoke” (plantains boiled and mashed up), what looked like mashed
potatoes (except very, very hard, as if it was made with no milk or butter, and
with flour instead) <i>(which I later found
out was Ugali, made out of cornmeal) </i>pinto beans and rice. They also served meat but we didn’t eat it to
not get sick (plus, we had just come from the market with the hanging cows and
black fish and eating them would not have been the greatest of ideas). The food was pretty good and it filled me up
immediately. It is amazing, Ugandans eat almost all carbohydrates! We have heard that vegetables are expensive
and salad is a luxury. No wonder they
have so many nutrition issues! But I can
also completely understand why it is so practical to eat this way.. you get
full quickly and thus need to eat a lot less then if what you were eating was
something else. With just one small
handful of matoke I was full. And yes, I
am not one to judge by because I don’t usually eat large portions, but I am
sure the rest of the group would agree when I say that the food was very
filling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> The restaurant was on the main
street of Mityana, in a small room at the back of another, with walls painted
of light orange, and four tables with Pepsi tablecloths. There were 3 women there, waiting for
customers to come in. One had a baby and
when she began to set our tables she set the baby on the ground and the cute
little girl started crying and screaming away while the mom went back into the
kitchen to cook our meals. You can imagine
that 13 white, strange people looking at her, smiling, and making funny baby
noises to make her happy did not work very well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSyZICCNQ38iGvUCpLfd02M86z25Zj31t_Mmh-vn0ffbqqfKqoroCsUj1-pS0L911OOhk7QC2n9f91cckfy2Vs_bs_GZ5dlRZhARcIIC4nx72RuRqmQyjxgDEQnbH6K8RsNdyy2IhwEY/s1600/leeann2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSyZICCNQ38iGvUCpLfd02M86z25Zj31t_Mmh-vn0ffbqqfKqoroCsUj1-pS0L911OOhk7QC2n9f91cckfy2Vs_bs_GZ5dlRZhARcIIC4nx72RuRqmQyjxgDEQnbH6K8RsNdyy2IhwEY/s1600/leeann2.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had a similar picture of our food. Beginning from left, clockwise: pinto beans, some more bean juice, rice, matoke, and there used to be some ugali here as well.<br />Photo taken by LeeAnn</span></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> It took us a while to explain to the
waitress what we wanted… first she brought over the whole combo dish.. with
meat, liver, matoke, mashed potatoes, rice, beef sauce, and beans. Then, after some very slow English and funny
miming she brought another dish with no liver, but with the meat. Finally after three tries we ended up eating
rice, beans, matoke and mashed potatoes.
It was a very funny miscommunication situation…</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"> Today, I have still been reflecting
on the market from yesterday. When we
went it was just incredible how people looked at us! I mean, yes, it made perfect sense… after all
we were 13 white woman, taking pictures and walking around the market in the
middle of Uganda as if we were shopping or sight-seeing. But still, it impressed me nevertheless. They looked at us as if we were animals. I don’t mean that in a bad sense... maybe
animals wasn’t the best word choice... as pieces in a museum… as interesting
things that they don’t usually see in their day to day lives… exactly the same
way we were probably looking at them.
The majority was happy to see us, others, you could easily tell wanted
us far, far away. And I understand them
completely. I mean, who are we to just
peruse around their market? Who are we
to go around taking pictures of their children, their men and women, the state
of poverty in which they live in? Who
are we to do all that when in a week or so we will just go back to our nice and
comfortable lives, with cars, and food everyday, and clothes to buy and
computers, and cell phones... the list could go on and on and on. Who are we to enter into their lives, look at
them, and then leave… when we have everything… and they have nothing? We are NO ONE. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 150%;"> That is what makes me feel so
uneasy, guilty, ashamed… I don’t quite know what name to give it. Here we are,
wanting to teach these people things when in reality we are the ignorant ones
that know absolutely nothing about what their lives are like! It seems as if they think of us as superior,
as intelligent, successful people that they aspire to be like... and that just
makes me feel so… I don’t know! Yes, we
may have more economic resources, and a better education, and more job
opportunities… but what about what’s really important in life? What about what’s
it’s like to suffer, and be resilient and strong and courageous and keep
fighting and fighting? And the value of
family, friends, food, shelter… life? We know nothing about all that in
comparison! And that is what makes me
feel… uneasy. A part of me doesn’t want them to follow in
our footsteps. I don’t want them to
start a business and then get consumed with the capitalist mentality of
individual superiority that the rest of the world has. That “I must succeed, and under no
circumstances stop reaching for more, and more and more” attitude that drives
the “developing” of the “first world countries” … I don’t want them to have
that! That kind of mindset often becomes
more important to some people than their family, their friends, their values,
their time to enjoy life and not spend it always trying to get what is in the
future. But here, in Uganda, it is
relieving to see that those values and ways of life still seem to be in
place. That sense of community, of
brotherhood and sisterhood, of helping one another so that everyone can succeed
and not just me, me, me… that is still here!
And, of course, I know that what we came here to do will not have a
catastrophic impact and immediately cause them to lose those values and become self-centered,
“success” hungry, superficial people, obviously no… what we do here will help them
have a better life… but I am just pondering on it though, on the big picture of
helping those in developing countries.
It is such a sensible thing to do, in the sense that we have to be so
careful! I want them to be well and
happy and have food and clothing and shelter, but I don’t want them to end up
like extreme capitalist, competitive, individualist, self absorbed people like
the majority of the world! Okay, maybe I
am going a little far, I get wrapped in things sometimes and take them to </span><span style="line-height: 23px;">irrational</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> levels.... I don´t want anyone to think that helping others is bad and I am afraid that if I keep babbling on it may seem that way… my mind is just wandering now... and that is a very,
very dangerous thing…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6DGbug7xwN3Z5Z21SSl9_cSBEL5C3HS7pCeGYxeqltdkCdzOhhXUpkmMGFEBZIXnOW90ya6VkqF15CmtmuYEyC8WbILeIxFuEQQTTu4yQd5vywKY1Hkf8ek5RGS5jfQXIWpPBWGt7Bqk/s1600/AFRICA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6DGbug7xwN3Z5Z21SSl9_cSBEL5C3HS7pCeGYxeqltdkCdzOhhXUpkmMGFEBZIXnOW90ya6VkqF15CmtmuYEyC8WbILeIxFuEQQTTu4yQd5vywKY1Hkf8ek5RGS5jfQXIWpPBWGt7Bqk/s640/AFRICA.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here we are at work with our posters for the presentations.</span></td></tr>
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<br /></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-44620561584582582412012-06-20T21:34:00.001-07:002012-07-12T21:30:09.882-07:00Day 2: the Real and the Sureal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="line-height: 200%;">Today
we woke up a little late, but then we went down to the downtown of
Mityana. Simply amazing! </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"> The market is located in a small
plaza, where they sell fruits, vegetables, shoes, fish, cow meat, clothes, and
every other thing one can imagine. The
people walk in between the small stands through little paths of red, slippery
mud. As I walked along the paths (with
what seemed to be 999999 eyes staring at my every step waiting for me to trip
on the mud) I smelled the people, the sweat, and depending on the stand I was
passing by… fish, cow, vegetables, fruits… smog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBAH5LlvSPjdS9OWiOLqjgToYydQ9CR0m6tfwWVqOgsDAGlaV2s3ep-h2WOYVD04WWxY3baS5XCKNFtkDxJJGRXGLhOLSv3dkweAAUNSWNqozhtt7RvY6vHyyvoI5TifczcChwp2Yxds/s1600/bh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBAH5LlvSPjdS9OWiOLqjgToYydQ9CR0m6tfwWVqOgsDAGlaV2s3ep-h2WOYVD04WWxY3baS5XCKNFtkDxJJGRXGLhOLSv3dkweAAUNSWNqozhtt7RvY6vHyyvoI5TifczcChwp2Yxds/s1600/bh.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The small plaza, covered with umbrellas and women in colorful dresses and little children running around. The market of Mityana!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Photo taken by: Brittany<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 200%; text-align: left;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 31px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 31px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 31px;">I heard some babies cry, people screaming in Lugandan back and forth, “mzungu mzungu!” I wish I could enclose all those smells, sounds and textures in a little box and take it back to California with me! It is all so… Uganda! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 31px;"> Just like automatically when I smell a cigarette I remember Uruguay, I know that these things I experienced today are going to be what will remind me of Uganda later on. I love the fact that all of this, although far from my reality, is their way of life. It makes me want to know about their daily lives! What do people do here every day? Yes, they go to get water and work on the gardens.. but anything else? I wonder what they like to eat as a treat, and what is perceived as taboo, and what their daily routine is like, and what sort of music they listen to, and what they think of foreigners, and foreigners coming to their countries, and… what do they think of themselves?</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFJvUQ25yGLLb8DvNkKoZz9aaSSOczf2SQQ-SBUBFzQRuVM3aBJzOVyWo0b9nkHEF_0Mj5zim4NKw3yjPOK9j2Z20Tt8PxFdk63JmYukIBYTM-i7tn5a08ec2-pMLBBKP2Mbf-ApHcXY/s1600/bryce1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFJvUQ25yGLLb8DvNkKoZz9aaSSOczf2SQQ-SBUBFzQRuVM3aBJzOVyWo0b9nkHEF_0Mj5zim4NKw3yjPOK9j2Z20Tt8PxFdk63JmYukIBYTM-i7tn5a08ec2-pMLBBKP2Mbf-ApHcXY/s640/bryce1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Shoes at the
market. The women to the left had a tiny, beautiful baby and asked me to
take a photograph of him! I later lost the picture during the
"formatting accident" but it was a very sweet picture!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Photo taken by: Bryce<span style="background-color: white;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;">During
our tour of the market I took some pictures, making sure to always as when I
took pictures of individuals. Whenever I
saw pictures of individuals in National Geographic or another similar magazine,
like the famous one of the Afghan girl, I always wondered how they do it, and
how the people react to it. Well, as far
as I have seen, it is not so hard to ask, but the reactions can definitely not
be generalized, everyone I asked reacted differently. Many, happy and shy, nodded “yes.” One man even stopped me in the street and
asked me to take his picture! But others
did not want my camera to get even close to them…. Like it happened at the
market today.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"> I was just walking around, taking
everything in, looking around as much as I could, trying to see everything, hear
everything, experience everything… and occasionally taking some pictures of the
general view. One time I was trying to
get a picture of the whole market (like the ones that you see here), when,
through my camera I see a woman seating in the middle of a pile of green
plantains, dressed in a blue and violet traditional female Ugandan attire,
holding what looked like a large (and I mean very, very large) piece of ginger
(or at least that’s what I think it was) on her right hand, flinging her hand
back, ready to throw it at my head and screaming angrily at me in
Lugandan. I saw her through my camera
and immediately took it away from my eye.
The woman put down the ginger, but kept screaming at me. She did NOT want her picture taken! And I was left there standing… facing my
second <i>(and fortunately last) </i>traumatizing
experience. Of course, she didn’t know that
I wasn’t taking a picture of her, and that I was actually taking a picture of
the whole market and that I had not even noticed her sitting there until I saw
her shaking the ginger at me through the camera. But that experience left me thinking about it
the entire day. Immediately afterwards I
was so in shock that I didn’t know where to turn, what to do, who to look at…
should I just put the camera away?
Should I ask someone the translation and mouth “sorry” to her? This might seem a little funny, but today I
truly, truly realized I am in a different country.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"> I came to this realization through
both the sight of the market and the incident with the woman. I can’t quite put it into words, and I am
afraid that it will sound awfully childish and stupid when I say it, but here
it goes… I realized that I was in a another country, completely unlike
my own, not because of the differences in the look of it, but because of the
nature of it. In other words: the
poverty, the starving children, the constant smell of sweat, the unhygienic
conditions of the market, and everything else that is so, so different from
what I have experienced in the past was not actually what had the effect of…
“snapping me back to reality.” No, at
least today, it was the nature of the people.
The way they think, what they see as right, as wrong, as polite, as
normal, as rude, etc, etc. Just the way
things are. Because, although it is
unfortunately very extreme here, there is poverty everywhere, there is violence
everywhere, and disease everywhere and bad living conditions everywhere. The state of each country may differ, but
Uruguay, the U.S. and Uganda all include some level of those. However, what made me realize that this is
truly a different place is the people, because two countries may be identical
in what one can see, smell, taste and hear, but the people will always be
different; the people are what make a country, and Uganda is no exception. I know this is confusing, and maybe I
understand it in my own head because I have experienced it before. Migrating to the U.S. showed me that,
although I may be able to point out to people what I like and dislike about
each country, that I want to move back to Uruguay because of the beaches, and the
food, and that I don’t like the cold in the U.S., etc, all those excuses seem
so… incomplete. There is something else,
apart from what can be seen and heard and that makes them different from each other,
something a lot more powerful than the landscape or the weather or the economy
or the education: the people.
Because even if the two countries
were exactly the same, I would still feel a special connection to Uruguay,
because the people are like me. We think
alike, see similarly on things…. I don’t know how to explain it, but there is
something that unites all citizens of a country, and that something cannot be
explained or duplicated. Uruguayans have
that, Americans do, and Ugandans do to.
So, I guess that in conclusion, what made me “snap” into reality was the
realization that I am a stranger here. I
am not part of them, and I will never be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"> Okay, I just reread that… I knew I
wasn’t going to be able to properly express what I am trying to say. I do not feel sad about it, and I am not
trying to segregate, or alienate Uganda. No, no, no! This was just the complicated process that my
mind went through in the millisecond that I saw the woman with the ginger
through my camera, and that then snowballed during the hours that followed making
me realize that I am in another country.
So much for such a simple realization….That’s
all. And now, since I have been thinking
so much about it my head is starting to hurt, and I cannot understand anything
anymore... I am going to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkOU-yGKNdBqzPHdcZaTxzUdpJuxrwuXuVSIM8NjNNsOTYT26m4EeaO95ahuDaAOA9Ou33N61S1i7_UnOkG0W5u_TziRMRO9udnX1w7_rfpoW2v_EV3TK1_8l4wiMkWnQzjUzOQ-74zE/s1600/lee+ann.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkOU-yGKNdBqzPHdcZaTxzUdpJuxrwuXuVSIM8NjNNsOTYT26m4EeaO95ahuDaAOA9Ou33N61S1i7_UnOkG0W5u_TziRMRO9udnX1w7_rfpoW2v_EV3TK1_8l4wiMkWnQzjUzOQ-74zE/s1600/lee+ann.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Some
of the women at the market. I did not take this picture, and I had not
realized it before, but I looked closely at the picture and actually the Ginger
Woman is here! On the far left you can see her, still looking pretty
angry! LeenAnn took this picture, I was to her left, so it was probably
around the time the picture was taken that she was yelling at me! This is
crazy, I had't realized she came up on a picture!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Photo taken by: LeeAnn</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibBCEiB2HM685MqPyTFMTtOYxLMNYPd6uzGGaHYot4qLuqMyG1MNw3E7azPh-4LqGuR_xiqA64bJEYP5_nCux2IJXe6uFO-_jhADndkt2LRRyEdrxbeF3Cmt-5EVmxMtQkaFds2PUiSk/s1600/SAM_2742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibBCEiB2HM685MqPyTFMTtOYxLMNYPd6uzGGaHYot4qLuqMyG1MNw3E7azPh-4LqGuR_xiqA64bJEYP5_nCux2IJXe6uFO-_jhADndkt2LRRyEdrxbeF3Cmt-5EVmxMtQkaFds2PUiSk/s1600/SAM_2742.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div align="center" class="separator" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Some
of the women at the market. I did not take this picture, and I had not
realized it before, but I looked closely at the picture and actually the Ginger
Woman is here! On the far left you can see her, still looking pretty
angry! LeenAnn took this picture, I was to her left, so it was probably
around the time the picture was taken that she was yelling at me! This is
crazy, I had't realized she came up on a picture!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Photo taken by: LeeAnn<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
-Magda</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Don´t forget to Like my Facebook page and see all of the pictures!</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi">https://www.facebook.com/magdafitipaldi</a></div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1389543842450592708.post-85774529791885234692012-06-19T22:37:00.000-07:002012-07-12T21:30:57.652-07:00Day 1: The Firsts<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">May 15th, 2012</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">WE GOT TO UGANDA!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JiNnURMxl3lVMqciRoGF_H1vCgGs-TN7yOyeipWwZDb1I5Dl54v9YAtbpGPaHqEew9Prr6kdcY2PQYpkawng2xwjyoo7DfI26HCUu8J4yPxIFibelWvvEMkinOvvHmuWzKnmt67LY8Y/s1600/nicole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JiNnURMxl3lVMqciRoGF_H1vCgGs-TN7yOyeipWwZDb1I5Dl54v9YAtbpGPaHqEew9Prr6kdcY2PQYpkawng2xwjyoo7DfI26HCUu8J4yPxIFibelWvvEMkinOvvHmuWzKnmt67LY8Y/s640/nicole.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo taken by: Nicole</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> What a day! So many things we saw,
smelled, heard, tasted! I cannot believe I am here!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The first thing that went through my
mind when the airplane doors opened and we began to descend down the little
yellow stairs was… HUMIDITY!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The change was amazing. It was humid like one of those summer days in
Uruguay in which you go outside and are soaked but can´t quite figure out if it
is because it is about to rain, raining, or that you are simply sweating like a
pig. In other words, it was welcoming, I
felt at home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWv2ycR8nWli_cmO07pfjAKComry55qk8avf0oavbVLB4naJRecDfixpS0UweYF9Hk5cenItznK2qjFfLsr-KlUk5Rlp3yukYVf8icbfGJqvnugRI7MEXp423_ljNs9vq5z_CfoWMonuA/s1600/brit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWv2ycR8nWli_cmO07pfjAKComry55qk8avf0oavbVLB4naJRecDfixpS0UweYF9Hk5cenItznK2qjFfLsr-KlUk5Rlp3yukYVf8icbfGJqvnugRI7MEXp423_ljNs9vq5z_CfoWMonuA/s640/brit.JPG" width="474" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I lost my picture of the first step, but Brittany took one!<br />
Photo taken by: Brittany</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Before leaving California I promised
my friend Erynn that I would take a picture of my first step in Africa. What I wasn´t expecting was that picture to
come along with an anecdote: I was walking down the yellow staircase, and as I
reached the last step I brought my camera to my eye and right as I stepped onto
the ground I snapped a picture of my red slipper stepping onto the black Ugandan
asphalt. I was happy, that picture
somehow made being here more real, although the fact was far, far from sinking
in. I was still pondering this (in the
millisecond that it took to snap the photograph) when I look up and a women,
airport personnel, points at me with her finger, her face about 20 cm away from
mine, and says in a loud and demanding voice “No cameras! Put it away!” I am not kidding when I say that the lady was
angry, very, very mad. So there I was,
with my first traumatizing experience, but happy as can be, and the lady
looking at me as if pondering to confiscate my camera. For the first “shock,” it was far, far
different from what I expected my it to be, but at least I’ll be able to look
back at it and laugh. I wish I had seen
my face, I bet it was pretty funny. <i>(Fortunately,
this was one of only 2 of what I call “traumatizing experiences” on the whole
trip, or in other words, instances that left me confused, guilty and
disoriented, not knowing what to do)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> But finally we got in, went to
immigration and met with Father Kizito, Sister Christine, Sylvia and two other
nuns. They were so happy to see us! We
hugged everyone, twice, once on each side, and headed towards the bus. It was Sylvia’s birthday so on our way we
sang her “happy Birthday.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> All of a sudden, out of nowhere,
Sylvia memorized all of our names, and began taking out little gifts from her
purse. She would call out a name and
give that person a gift. She gave mi a
little blue beaded bracelet that I still have on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Then we went to visit a church in
Kampala. Beautiful! And two guys showed us around and taught us about the
symbols on the windows, the statues, the Ugandan martyrs, etc. It impressed just <i>how</i> important the Ugandan martyrs are! There were
talking about the entire time, they were on the windows, and on the
statues, and on the altar, and even the people on the street were talking about
them to us!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> After stopping to eat breakfast,
bread with jam, papayas, and eggs, we kept going on our way to Mityana.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowJWyqZMkuCOcsRCZxO-SN41jF5MaPuNLy1ENvhlKDiSqZdu1c2I7aCgooeI7BeIXtPJobOK7t5L8Tt4WNHR5E0-RXAJoCZsQvfbVWRE3LE5Nz2_6zqA3g1KkC5gSXCVHAK9MAFbDjV8/s1600/IMG_0231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowJWyqZMkuCOcsRCZxO-SN41jF5MaPuNLy1ENvhlKDiSqZdu1c2I7aCgooeI7BeIXtPJobOK7t5L8Tt4WNHR5E0-RXAJoCZsQvfbVWRE3LE5Nz2_6zqA3g1KkC5gSXCVHAK9MAFbDjV8/s640/IMG_0231.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mityana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The sides of the streets of Kamapala are lined
with little stands of fruit, a lot of tomatoes, plantains and other
vegetables.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Above all however, it was
full of people!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Everywhere!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Many in motorcycles, called boda bodas and
used similar to a taxi, and many vans, like buses.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Speaking of cars, it is weird to be driving
on the other side of the street, I keep on thinking that we are going to crash
because we are going the wrong way!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Also, gas here is apparently really expensive.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">If they do not even have money to buy food,
and gas is that expensive... how do they afford it?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The socioeconomic difference between the
people I saw on the street and the few inside the cars must be huge!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">U$1= $2500 Ugandan schillings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> But what impressed me the most was
the not poverty of the people, living among trash and dirt, in tiny huts that
seem fragile enough to be blown away by any small breeze or the incredibly large
number of people everywhere. No, it was none of that, because what impressed me
most was the abundance of ironies that I see everywhere we go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Among the dirt, the trash, the women
carrying heavy baskets on their heads, the little fruit stands along the road
and the smog, appeared Lexuses and Merdeces Benz! It left be completely perplexed when I first
saw it! (most of them I saw them at the
gas stations with the expensive gas) How
is it possible that in a country as poor as this one there are luxury cars? Or actually, how is it that this country<i> is</i> so poor and that there are so many
people suffering when fancy cars are driving on the roads? Because not all of
the people driving the cars were American, or European, mzungu, as one may have
thought. No! Many of them are Ugandan! I
am not trying to say that people in Uganda should not have the privilege of driving
such cars, not at all! If they are well
of then they should enjoy it! I am not blaming anyone, not the rich or the
poor, I am simply making an observation.
An observation of the reality, not only in Uganda, but in the entire
world. A reality that I know about, see
in Uruguay ( but most certainly not to such an extreme), but have never
experienced anywhere else, since Marin, although one may say there is a
economic gap, it is basically inexistent in comparison. In other words, although I know that this
happens elsewhere in the world apart from Uruguay, where I don’t really think
about it since that is just how things have always been, it is sad to have that
confirmed here in Uganda. Of course, like in every country, there seems
to be a high class with great economic power, and at the same time, the
majority of the people, living under almost inhumane conditions, considering
the fact that not may seem to have clean water. That’s it.
It’s the water issue that shocked me the most. Because in Uruguay, yes there are the very,
very rich people that buy the expensive cloth and have vacation homes in Punta
del Este, and then the poor who live in the garbage dumps, but no matter how
much money you make, or how lucky you are, both beggars and celebrities drink
the exact same water. That’s the
shocking difference here! There are those that have the fancy cars, the money
to buy gas, TV’s and computes, and then there are those that drink the muddy
and dirty water from streams and puddles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">-Magda</span></div>
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</div>magdalenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17600849435470423772noreply@blogger.com1