I have two duffel bags. One is in the trunk of my car. It has a year's worth of work by the International Human Rights Advocates' Gulu team: books, binders, syllabi. It's quite a pile. Last night, I had to figure out how to move the bag from the law school to the car. Fortunately, some friends were around. Rob is a small man with a slight frame, and he is interested in corporate law. When I told him what was in my bag, he said that he'd never imagined himself doing anything to address human rights issues abroad. And then he carried that monster of a duffel the whole way to the car.
The other bag is in my living room. It has neosporin, Hydrocortizone cream, Advil, Tylenol, Ace wrap, Tums, Claritin, bandages, multivitamins, you name it. None of these items are coming home. I'm somewhat awed that I have both of these duffels. They're symbolic, to me: my nanosecond of protest against chaos.
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