An Ambivalent Article

I was still working when the power was cut. Mac could not do anything but staring at his dead computer. I could still so dome work on my laptop though the battery usually lasts for only half an hour. I brought my candle from the toilet and lit it in the room. Under the dim candle light, I started reading applications to our training session for new local volunteers which will take place next month. We will have the first selection day tomorrow due to John's bad memory. He told the ones who contacted him to come on this friday, whereas, I told everyone else to come on next friday. Although we did not ask for any other personal materials apart from a valid ID at this stage, two applicants have submitted their complete CVs. I looked them through and found them terribly boring. All information provided was like product description which tells me nothing but how many exams they have painfully sat through (though they are from the best uni in Uganda). I hope they would impress me tomorrow.
 
It's not of my interest to criticise the lack of usefulness of most of the university degrees in real life, since one day I might actually get one for myself.
 
Life is hard here; to carry out my work here is harder; to keep hope alive is the most difficult. I admit I have started looking at the world in a different way, further away from my old cynical way. I missed the days in the UK, where I enjoyed myself so much in cultural and academic adventures. They became part of my faith of working here. Sometimes here I was awfully stressed with nowhere to calm myself down. But when I pushed myself back to work, I could then forget about my own problems and focus on problems of the others, which are much bigger and more urgent than mine in all aspects.
 
I can still remember clearly one of the early mornings I spent in Madrid. I put on the music and then opened the transparent door, or a window in bigger size, to the garden. The weather was cool and lively, without any hint of turning into extreme hotness in several hours' time. The swimming pool was so still which made the garden seem strangely attractive. I could feel the wind softly passing through my linen clothes and touching my body in a mischievous way. I heard one of Chopin's fantasies being played through the loud speaker. I never heard that piece before, but was totally fascinated by it only several seconds after it being played. The use of the scales was full of  imagination. There were many notes being played simultaneosly and subsequently, but neither of them was excessive. Each note stayed in my mind for far longer than it actually being played. I don't know how that happened and I did't want to know. It is said the pleasure of listening to music depends quite much on the place where the music is played. I quite agree with that. There have  been only two occasions in which I felt the the thorough joy from the music I was listening to, and both of them are unfortunately short in duration. The first time was when I was offered to listen to Bach's Goldburg's Variation by Mr & Mrs King. The second variation just flew out of the window of their car and went straight into my heart. I instantly felt the warmness in my heart though the light rain fell anxiously on my head and shoulder. The second time was in that early Spanish morning, when I, for the first time of my life, felt safe.    
 
 

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Landon Meng
Programme Coordinator
Kazo International Community Volunteering Programme-KICVOP Uganda
P.O.Box.34514.Kampala-Uganda
Kazo-Nansana T Council-Wakiso District.
TEL: +256-7501928976(Uganda)
        +44-7501928976(UK)
Website: www.kicvop.org