I spent summer 2010 in Gulu, Uganda where Fr. Don, my ethics professor at St. Mary Seminary, has founded St. Kizito Counseling Center for the young Ugandans affected by guerilla warfare, disease, famine, etc. The time I was with the young people in Uganda was uplifting and inspiring because their eagerness to be Light and Salt of Uganda was tremendous. Now I would like to share some highlighted moments with you.

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Antananarivo is the capital of Madagascar, meaning the thousand villages. I am back in this primitive city since I visited in 2005 as a member of CRS. Nothing seems to change. One big difference might be that I am no longer a seminarain but a priest.

The expreience that I had in Madagascar has lived with me. It has guided me to discern what kind of priest I want to be throughout the seminary formation. Poverty and solidarity have taken flesh in my priesthood, and I have run several marathons with that flesh in the name of Living Person that comes from St. Irenaeus’ words—The glory of God is the living person.

Nevertheless, the first place I visit makes me numb. Br. Emmanuel takes me to one of his schools that the Missionary of Charity provides education and food. I have been supporting this place last four years through partaking in marathons and raising money from it as the Living Person. Br. Emmanuel stops in the middle of the road and parks the car alongside it. He says we have to walk. Once we enter into small huts, disgusting smell overwhelms because garbages pile up everywhere. Water looks like a crude chemical-thick, dark and black. It turns out an edge of the humongous slum in Antananarivo. Children are running around with running noses; women washing laundries in the middle of an abandoned railway. Besides the fact that the slum has a terrible condition to live, people seem to live normal life because there are houses built with bricks and small shops selling food and necessities. The school is in the heart of the slum.

Many students come to the school for food they get for lunch, Br. Emmanuel says. Many do not have shoes and only dirty clothes on. The small rooms are packed with children and disgusting smell prevails. Needless to say, sanitation is nothing to consider. I recall the pictures that Br. Emmanuel sent to me after I wired the fund that the Living Person raised through running marathons. It was taken in this tiny school rooms and the yard. Actually I have brought frizbees for the children and yet it does not look like possible to throw frizbees in this tiny place. If I were to be here, I would be miserable.

However, these children never show negative emotions. Smiles are everywhere and life seems full which amazes me. I cannot take a picture of poverty unless I shot the dirty streets, shoes and houses. Whenever I put the camera to the children, their faces become like blooming flowers. It seems for them not to matter living in the slum. It maybe a concern for those who come from affluent countries like United States and Western Europes. As long as we provide food for children, they will come to the school. It does not matter what motivation they have. What matters is that they come to the school and eat daily bread, and take time to hope that they can get out of this place sooner or later. It is a temporary stop to dream that the better come later.

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When I was a child, I used to watch a TV program called “The kingdom of animals.” It was all about animals of the prairies in Africa. Lion’s hunting, elephant’s elegant walking, thousands of hooves’ migration caught my eyes all the time. Safari was my utopia where I longed for.

Masai Mara means Masai’s river and it is now the best national park in Kenya. On June 21, I found myself standing up over the roof of a 4WD van in Masai Mara. The prairie’s wind widly blew and the scenary was exactly the same that I saw in the kingdom of animals. Can you imagine how excited I was? When we stopped to look at a lion lying down like a king, my heart started beating. When we saw a family of lions eating bloody ribs of an animal, my mind was blown away. Zebra’s black and white stripes were vivid; hooves under a tree in the pararie were gorgeous; hienas and boers looked comfortable at home. On the way back, the sunset was spellbind. I lost myself in where life was so natural and full.

On the next day, we woke up early and drove out to where no one person was around. A lone elephant was walking so meditatively and it was perfect with a solitary tree in the prairie. After another risky night, all animals welcomed another day with new beats and sounds. When we saw a huge dust coming, we were astonished at watching thousands of hooves move to the north. It was fantastic.

When we left Masai Mara, we stopped by a village of Masai. The Masai worriors welcomed us with a traditional dance. They jumped and made a high-tone sound like wolfs. I jumped with them. Later I heard that those who jump higher than others can get a wife. It is a sign of strength. After the welcoming dance, we entered the village where the cow’s puffs were everywhere. It was one fourth size of a football field and sorrounded by the huts that were built by the cow’s puffs as well. We stood before the welcoming Masai women. They shyly danced and sang. Masai’s house was very low and small. It had a tiny place to cook and two sects of beds for parents and children. Outside the house, the Masais showed how to make fire, using woods. They spinned a soft stick on a hard wood repeatly and then smokes came out. A Masai put straws near it and fire immediately started which seemed to me a magic. I said some words they spoke. They smiled and said other words that I pronounced again. We laughed together. We wandred the village and looked around their art crafts that I didn’t care much. The Masai were my only interest. I asked questions and some answered in English. They said they watched the World Cup by paying a dollar per person to people who came and set a TV screen for them. How can you imagine the Masais gather around the big screen and cheered the World Cup?

What most surprised me was their gentle spirit. They didn’t scare me. We laughed together, pulling around one another. They gently grabbed our shoulders when pictures were taken. They received us not as strangers but friends. We felt comfortable to walk, talk and take pictures. Some women looked afraid to be taken pictures, so I asked every time to shot. They looked satisfied as they were. The farewell was heartfelt. Although it was a short time, I felt close to them and they seemed as well. The time in the Masai village was strangely emotional to me.

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I had felt like being in the wonder land as Fr. Joseph and I traveled in Uyuni well known for its salt desert. During the travel, both of us severly suffered from headaches because of the altitude. La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, is located on the top of the Andes Mountain which is over 3,600 meter.

We took a bus for 12 hours to get to Uyuni and then drove a SUV for a couple of hours to get to the salt desert. It was spellbinding. I uploaded some pictures in my Flickr that you can find in the right column of the homepage. Just click the Flick sign to be in the wonder land!