Malaria? Blame Aetna

If I had any idea how much money this trip would cost, I would have planned better. The hidden expenses are incredible. Example. I booked my plane ticket, yes. But how to get from home to the airport? I was initially going to take Amtrak. $120 each way is pricey but tolerable. But there's a problem. Amtrak won't allow me to take all my bags. So I try shuttle service. Only no shuttles pick people up from Philly to take them to JFK. It's just too inconceivably far. Forget that on the other side of the country, shuttles drive that distance all the time. We call it "commuting through Los Angeles."

Please forgive me. I am cranky today.

So I decide to rent a car from Philly Airport and drive to New York. Mom balks at this. I don't know the roads, I don't know the traffic, I get lost easily, she will put extra money in my account if I please, please, please find ground transport. Okay, fine. She's right. I would probably wind up in D.C. before I made it to New York. So on a friend's advice, I book a sedan. It costs $200 one way. Ouch. Only, after I book the trip they let me know it's $200 if I have only one piece of luggage. With five pieces of luggage, the price goes up to $320 one way. Plus gas. Plus tolls. Plus a tip. Suddenly, I'm paying $500 for a one-way trip, which adds up to an extra THOUSAND DOLLARS just to get from Philadelphia to New York and back.

I don't care if I have to sleep in the train station, I am not booking a sedan back home. I'll just abandon most of my luggage in Gulu, see if I can crash with my aunt in Manhattan, and take Amtrak home in the morning. Details TBD.

Next crisis. I rush to the store to get my prescriptions. Only guess what? They don't have Malarone for me. I'm supposed to start taking my malaria pills TOMORROW, but Savon's won't be able to get the meds until Thursday -- at which point I will be in London. I panic, and the pharmacist notices and says, "Well, I guess I could see if we could speed it up."

The rational part of me is very thankful that he says this. The rational part of me recognizes that this is customer service -- pushing a delivery time for one concerned customer. But the part of me that has been too nervous to sleep since school let out is throwing a temper tantrum. Gee, THANKS, buddy, Maisha-angry says. It's good to know that you threatened me with Thursday on a whim, that you weren't actually basing your estimate on any sense of how long the prescription delivery would actually take. I manage to bite my tongue and wait fifteen minutes while the pharmacist dawdles behind the counter, only he never fills my scripts. Instead, he lets me sit around for a while and then tells me that my health insurance will only pay for one month's prescription at a time; it'll be an extra $500 to purchase the other two months' worth of medication at full cost.

I try to swallow my frustration. I call my health insurance company, hoping for some sort of policy override. They are closed for Memorial Day weekend. I didn't even know it was Memorial Day weekend.

Meanwhile, I still haven't gotten my tax return, my economic stimulus check, the fellowship that is supposed to be paying for all of this, or rent from either one of my tenants (although to their credit, it's not due until June 1). And I am smarting from the extra fees that I paid to get to Florida for that conference. And I have to pay another thousand to MoneyGram shortly for my hotel room. I am the closest to zero dollars that I have ever been in my whole life, and that is with a healthy dose of support from Mommy and Daddy.

I guess I'm tense because this doesn't begin to consider the administrative junk I have to take care of at home and abroad, or the laundry and cleaning I have to do before Wednesday. I miss my dog; I miss my easy, aimless life of science fiction and junk food; and I miss having a paycheck. I have felt terrifically out of sorts ever since law school began, and this hiccup of time before flying out? Cool as I try to be, it feels like I'm choking.

(It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay ...)

Arrgh

You can't save the world if you fall asleep and miss your flight.

Am on the phone right now, paying the $150 reassignment fee plus the additional charge for the altered flight, so I can get to Florida for the Sudan Studies conference. This is the most expensive domestic flight I've ever taken, literally.

I'm not sure where I made the mistake. Did I wake up, turn of my alarm clock, and go back to sleep? Was I conscious when this happened? Did I neglect to set my alarm? Was my alarm not enough to wake me up? I was working on my presentation last night. I was exhausted, trying to read through that 96-page report from U. Khartoum. I haven't been able to sleep for the past, I don't know, week or so. So maybe ... who knows. Who cares. It's only $218. I don't need money. Really.

... I didn't believe that last time, either ...

... I'm going back to bed.

:(

Packing

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.

No more shopping, please!

Thanks to C for the note that my e-mail address was broken. I fixed it below, but just to reiterate, that's melonai at law dot upenn dot edu.

In other ramblings, I just got back from a 12-hour shopping trip with Emily, who is a super-fantastic shopping buddy. During the past 48 hours, I have spent $500 on my plane flight and hotel room for the conference in Florida, $250 on medical supplies (and I haven't even purchased the mosquito repellent or water filtration system yet!), $400 on suits so I will look official on the job, and $100 on books for research on Sudan. And I encouraged Em to do some pretty naughty things, herself.

I am ready to stop spending now please thank you. Sigh. I love Penn for giving me a grant, but it is NOT sufficient to make a solo 10-week trip, even to Uganda. Oh well. I'll just repeat what I wrote earlier about not needing money, until I finally believe myself. (Actually, I got a note from the financial aid office that I will be receiving more money than I thought, but that said funds would be taxed, which I was not expecting. Easy come, easy go. I wonder if Professor Burke-White is working his magic behind the scenes.)

One thing is certain

Yay! My hotel room in Ntinda is confirmed! This makes me happy. And a friend of a friend used, um, methods to confirm the validity of my passport. It's valid! I'm still going to write to the passport agency, but I finally feel like I'm on the right track.

Going shopping with Emily today to buy suits. She has a veterinary appointment with Gordon the fabulous kitty in the middle of the day, so hopefully I will be able to use that time to run to the library and check for books by Francis Deng, who seems to have written a lot about the Dinka.

Does anyone know where else I can get info about Dinka culture? I need to write back to my friend, Jok. He wrote a book. And is Dinka. And should know.

Things to do

• take care of my insurance renewal for the year


• sign the lease with my new tenant


• pick classes for next semester


• pick firms to interview with this fall


• buy new suits


• get a water filtration system


• find the malaria and antibiotic prescriptions so I can actually get them filled


• pack


• take the 20-hour writing contest


• research lots


• draft that presentation


• read the books on Ugandan history


• get my passport straightened out


• so i can get a visa


• remember everything that I DON'T already have on this list


• laugh


• spend as much time with friends as possible


• call home just to check in on my dog

P.S., God kicked me out

Looks like I will be staying at the expensive Ntinda hotel instead of the Christian medical clinic, after all. Oh well. Who needs money?

Change in plans!

I met a lovely woman named Martha Wright at the seminar presentation last week. Martha lives with the Karamoja in Uganda, in an area somewhat to the north of Kampala, south of Gulu. Definitely the type of woman I admire. She is a Penn graduate with her Ph.D in education. She dresses simply, and the shape of her body radiates strength ... like someone who has been molded by sun and dirt, not treadmills and salad. She told me these stories about being raided, and about using a winch to pull her convoy out of mud puddles. This is the kind of woman I want to be -- if I could be like this woman, I could live through anything.

Anyway, Martha is helping me find a place to live, for much less money than the housing agency. She introduced me to a man named Charles Howard, who has been her special hire driver in the past. Charles will be taking a qualifying exam -- presumably for university studies, I think that's what qualifying exams are -- so he can't drive me from Entebbe airport. But he is making arrangements with a friend of his to take care of me. He has also found me a different place to live, in a protestant hospital's guest house in Mengo. It's much cheaper, and comes with breakfast every day. No swimming pool, but like I said before -- that's okay! And there is a restaurant where I can buy meals.

Maybe I like this situation because I implicitly trust Martha. After hearing her talk about the Karamoja, I can tell from my own experience that a) she's got a good bead on Uganda, and b) she is not a scary religious fanatic. And by "good" I mean she does not come off as ignorant, or aggressive, or prejudiced, or hyper-evangelical, all of which I have seen U.S. relief workers become. She sounds educated and caring, and I like her ideas about helping people by learning about them, first. She just makes sense. So I will transfer much of that trust to the people she puts me in contact with.

Here's the interesting part: I realize that I have embedded myself in a religious network. All of these people are Protestant. That ... might mean ... going back to church. You might call this my first cultural surprise. I will be very honest. Here in the United States I have made a good effort to stay away from the Christian church, ever since a somewhat nasty experience with a fellowship group during my undergraduate years. I will omit details; let me just say that I railed against narrow-mindedness and forcible evangelism.

Now, to gain awareness of the people I live with, and to buy a social pass around them, I might have to attend service. Okay. I can do this. Actually makes sense -- if I want to learn about people of course I need to learn about their spirituality. The part of me that will be Christian until the day I die (you cannot be born and raised in a religion without it claiming some lasting part of you, no matter how much you try to separate yourself intellectually) says that this is poetically appropriate. Here God called my father out of Sudan, protected him all the way to the United States, and set him up as a doctor. Here God is calling me back to the Continent, and protecting me with His people in a hospital. Of course it would happen this way. How else would things possibly work?

Insha'Allah.

I am late for a study group. Must run. Wish me luck: I hope this living situation works out.

Room of One's Own

Apparently, this is to be my new home. It's expensive; I was expecting to find something for less than $500 USD per month, but at least I don't have to set up utilities or buy an air mattress upon landing. Should I have bargained harder? The hotel prides itself on having its own little pool. Too bad there's that safety warning out on water. I'll have to settle for using the "aerobics" downstairs.

Updates

I have to write briefly, as we're really down to the wire at school:

• Passport: Not valid, after all. Must reapply. BLARGH!


• Visa: Can't apply until passport situation is fixed.


• Housing: Still trying to find. Probably won't get that cute little house in Kisaasi. Owner wants 6 months' rent. Boo! Hotels are much more expensive, but at least they come with utilities and furnishings.


• Money: Running out. When do the scholarship funds come in?


• Projects: Still working on them!
  
  
  • Uganda project turned in. I was late, but at least it's done. Lots of revisions in mind for the class syllabi I plotted out, but I'll make fixes when my own classes are over.
  
  
  • Sudan project in the works. Will have to write it up DURING the writing competition. Good thing I'm only giving a preliminary report. Am considering applying for a Fulbright on this subject, and will definitely write a journal comment on the land use issue, whether for Penn or someone else.
  
  
• Home Life: Tenant moving out. Must find new roommate. During finals.


• Finals: At least I started studying earlier, this semester.


• Dog: Peeing on floor, mysteriously. Vet says he's depressed. Took him to parents in California, where he would have had to stay for the summer anyway, so he can get some time exercise in the back yard. I could use extra exercise, myself.


• Sanity: Good thing I never had it to begin with ...

Ticket

Running late, quick notes:

Well, I have a plane ticket! It was $2,000, a bit expensive because one of the U.S. carriers fell through. At least I'm flying mostly on European planes, though. Am curious to know what the Kenya Airlines flight will be like.

Am also looking for a place to live. Through the recommendation of a previous intern, have found a responsive housing agency that promises to find me a home. Kampala is gorgeous, from their photos. Nicer than Philadelphia. A lot of pink residences, blue skies.

The end of the semester is a whirlwind. Hope I can write more soon.

Already distressingly Western

Another quick note:

I have been corresponding with folks at the UCICC about where I might live this summer. It's a little bit awkward. I want to start my letters, "Dear Ms. / Mr. So-and-so," like we do here in the United States. But I also know that the Acholi, at least, have only one name -- Jennifer Anyayo, for example, is really just Anyayo. Jennifer is the Christian name she uses here in the United States. So I feel just a wee bit awkward. The person I've been writing to, Onyango John Francis, is probably just Onyango. Or John Francis. But of course, I've been calling him Mr. Francis, which is probably separating his Anglicized first name. He signs his e-mails Onyango, but far be it from me to use first names without permission, especially the name of a supervisor I haven't met before. Hello, social awkwardness! I should ask Alison what to do. She'd know.

Guess I'd better get used to the cultural faux pas.

The problem with passports, end of a trilogy

Have you ever seen "Along Came Polly"? Horrible movie, but there's a certain truth to the lead female character. She likes to dance, she likes spicy food, she's willing to give up extraneous comforts to live a simple, vibrant life. But the woman is a complete mess. She can't keep track of anything; don't EVER ask her to manage a practical task like finding her keys.

That's a lot like me. Tonight was the quintessential example. I was ready to go to bed around 11 p.m. It's spring break, and I'm still recovering from too many sleepless nights with my first appellate brief. Sleep is the most delicious thing in the world, right now.

Only problem is, I couldn't find the remote control for my overhead lights. The switch on my wall only controls a small table lamp. There's only one way to control the Hampton Bay lighted ceiling fan in my bedroom, and that is with the remote. Usually I keep it in bed with me so I can finish typing or studying, then just hit the switch and pass out. So today when the remote wasn't in my bed, I was mildly annoyed. What could I possibly have done with it?

I had just changed the sheets on my bed that afternoon, so I thought maybe the remote had fallen under the mattress. Nope. I stripped the bed, too, to see if I'd covered it over. No way. Checked under my desk, folded all the clean laundry on my computer chair, sorted all the dirty laundry on the floor (writing a paper means my life is a mess for a while), still no remote. By this point, I feel like I'm crawling beneath a desert sun. The light won't go off, and all I want is sleep!

So I sort a bunch of stray paperwork, take out the trash, clear the dishes in the bedroom ... it's a stretch to think the remote might be under my dinner plate, but you never know. I even move the bookshelf and my dresser drawers. No luck. I check Ozzie's dog bed. Lord knows my beagle has done odd things before. There was that one day I found my glasses under his pillow. He had chewed off the plastic earpieces and "buried" it for future playtime. But on this particular occasion, the munchkinhead was totally innocent. No light switch in his bed.

By 1:30 a.m. I have become completely desperate and loopy. I start going through old boxes of paperwork, including boxes I haven't opened since I lived in Center City more than two years ago. And naturally the remote control wasn't there -- it was sitting on my desk in plain sight, but you know what?

I found my passport.

The problem with passports, part deux

Yesterday I was holed up on the sofa, staring at my blank appellate brief. For some reason I have an enormous amount of anxiety about this particular assignment. It should be easy -- even pleasant. Heck, it's about dog toys. But I am mind-numbingly tired right now, and I just can't seem to focus.

So I'm sitting on this couch in pajamas, pushing my beagle off me, trying to type a word or two between mental blocks, when roommate #2, Darien, walks into the living room.

"You have a package, and it looks kind of important," Darien says, and he hands me a thin priority envelope like a waiter serving a fine dish.

We both guess what it is. Darien thinks that he has just given me my new passport. As a dual citizen from Japan, big D knows how important it is to get out of the country now and again. As he sees it, he's handing me my freedom.

Unfortunately, Darien is only partially right. After the call last week, I know that the government has not magically changed its mind about issuing me a passport book. I smile my cranky little smile, and rip open the envelop.

Yep. There it is. The passport application that I hadn't even canceled yet.

Here we go, again ...

The problem with passports

Let's just say, it's a good thing I started early.

I don't travel much. The last time I was out of the country was February of 2002. It's strange, I'll admit, for someone who is interested in international work. I haven't been to Asia or Africa or even South America; I have to catch up with my peers.

Anyway, I don't want logistical trouble getting to Kampala this summer, so I have been trying to expedite my passport renewal. From the start, I figured I'd spend a day in a federal building somewhere, trying to get my passport updated. The only problem is, you can't make an appointment to get your passport renewed unless you a) only have 14 days before your trip, b) have somehow lost your old passport, or c) only have 14 days before you need to apply for a visa.

I didn't clearly fit into any of those categories. I'm not leaving the country until June; I thought I had my most recent passport; and I don't have a clear 14-day visa deadline. I just want to apply soon because I have no idea how long it will take the government of Uganda to respond. So I (foolish rookie!) called passport services to arrange a personal appointment but was shunted off the phone by a cranky government employee. The conversation went something like this:

ME: Hi, I'd like to make an appoin...

PASSPORT LADY: Are you leaving in fourteen days?

ME: No, b...

PASSPORT LADY: Then don't call!

ME: Wait! I need a valid passport to apply for a visa, and I don't know how long the visa processing time will take, s...

PASSPORT LADY: Well, you have to send an application in by mail with form DS-11.

ME: Actually, I already have a pas...

PASSPORT LADY: Well then why are you trying to make an appointment?

ME: ...sport, I'm just trying to get my passport renewed before my life gets busy in a few weeks, so I have time to apply for a visa.

PASSPORT LADY: Well then you have to mail in a DS-82, which you can find on our web site.

ME: Yes, but I would like to do this quickly. Is it even possible to make an appointment?

PASSPORT LADY: You might be able to make an appointment; are you applying for a passport for the first time?

ME: Ma'am, please listen to me. I would like to renew my passport in time to apply for a visa.

PASSPORT LADY: Where are you going? You can just get a visa at the airport.

ME: I would rather not fly across the world without assurance that I will actually be granted a visa, thank you.

PASSPORT LADY: Where are you going?

ME: (sigh) Entebbe airport in Uganda.

PASSPORT LADY: You can apply for a visa at that airport.

ME: Yes, I am aware that I can apply for a visa at Entebbe airport. However, I have assisted friends in obtaining visas before, and I know that, on occasion, the process gets complicated and takes a while. I would just ...

PASSPORT LADY: Mail in a DS-82.

ME: (giving up) Okay, but can you answer some questions for me about expediting mail renewal?

PASSPORT LADY: When are you leaving?

ME: I just want a basic answer.

PASSPORT LADY: When are you leaving?

ME: June.

PASSPORT LADY: You don't have to expedite your passport.

ME: Look, I am a very busy person and I just want to make sure I start this process earl...

PASSPORT LADY: You don't have to expedite your passport.

ME: ... (hanging up the phone)


Thank you, government employee. I couldn't even find out whether to write separate checks for passport renewal and expedited service, or whether to put it on the same check. But I wasn't going to fight with the woman any longer. I wrote my check, made my best guess, and mailed the darn DS-82 to National Passport Services.

Last week, I got a phone call. The passport center can't process my passport renewal. Supposedly, I renewed my passport in 2001 (I don't remember doing this, but it makes sense, since that was the last time I traveled abroad), and until I can find that passport and mail it in, the government won't issue me a new book.

Now, I have no idea where that passport is. I don't even remember applying for the renewal. So I have to cancel my expedited renewal service (there goes $75) and apply again (for $135) in person (read, WITH AN APPOINTMENT) at a federal building or a post office.

In other words, if I'd gotten that appointment the first time around, this wouldn't be happening.

In other words, I've spent almost two weeks running around in circles for nothing.

In other words, I'm really glad I tried to renew my passport early.

And this isn't even the government of Uganda that I'm dealing with, yet.