The second year begins

I am now 2 months into my second year, and with my second year comes many joys as well as challenges. The work load for the second years at UWCiM is considerably grater than the first year, and as well the second years are given a fair amount of social responsibility. In a community where there are no 'parents' and most adults and administration are far away it is up to the second years to provide the support and guidance for the first years who are struggling with culture shock, homesickness, and the freedom of being away from home.

As far as I'm dealing with this extra work and responsibility, it's like the rest of UWC, a roller coaster: from bursting with joy to on the brink of tears and back again, and I'm just trying to enjoy every moment and still make my deadlines for the work I have to do.

As far as what I have been doing? a lot of writing, papers, and essays mostly. I have also been leading the environmental club with a friend of mine, and I also started a jogging club which I have been enjoying a lot.

The single thing I put the most effort into and enjoyed the most in the past two months was organizing a 5 day trek with 9 other students . It was really rewarding to share my love of the outdoors and adventure with students from Pakistan to The Netherlands.

Here is a shot of the group before we started!!

Summer Salmon

All my life summer has meant finding all my winter clothes and getting in a tiny stinky plane to bounce through the air down the Alaska Peninsula to commercial fish salmon. This year was no different, it was just crammed between two crazy school years in Bosnia. Being out at fish camp after my year abroad it finally hit me what a unique and amazing opportunity it is to participate in one of the world's last wild salmon runs. It also made me realize what a wonderful and fulfilling lifestyle it is working so closely to the land. There is so much you can learn at school as I have realized , but this is a whole different way of learning, and struggle which I know much better. Now the salmon are turning dark shades of red and the days are getting shorter and soon I will travel back to the other side of the world and settle back into my other life. I will miss Alaska more than I would like to, I will miss the ocean, the snow, the mountains and the wild that surrounds me. But I am excited to return to school as a second year and work my butt off for classes and colleges, and see what else there is to come :)

Returning

Originally this title was going to be 'Returning Home' But where 'Home is to me is now confusing. Is Home a place where you live but you don't speak the language? A place where you have found amazing people who support you like a family, a place where you have grown and changed and come to love? Or is home where you have grown up? where your true family is, where you come from where your memories live? But if you can't think of the next time you will be there for more than 10 days and people don't recognize you anymore aren't you just a visitor? I feel lost. I am in a whirlwind of eternal homesickness, when I am there I miss it here, when I am here I miss it there but I wouldn't give up either one; I wouldn't give up one sad feeling. This is part of the experience UWC is not the time I spend there it is something that is inside me for the rest of my life. I am back for the summer but I will return in the fall to get my butt kick by IB and to continue to enjoy my life there.

Back in Alaska I realize so much has changed, inside me , inside my friends in the world around me. Nothing is constant. The change scares me but at the same time it is beautiful. I don't want to grow up, but I want to GROW, and that is what I am doing, every day I live is another adventure and that is the beauty of life :)

A zoom in and sum up of UWC life and my last 9 months

In the last 20 minutes I have laughed at my own stupidity, almost cried from stress and exhaustion, tackled my best friend who is Spanish, hugged a Begin, studied physics, contemplated how what I have learned in psychology applies to my life, and cleaned the communal kitchen. This is a pretty average 20 minutes at UWC. How is this possible? I am constantly asking myself this. Either ‘how did I possibly just do that?’ or ‘how am I possibly going to do…’ Of all the many important lessons I have learned in my 9 months at UWC one of the most important is that nothing is impossible, some things just take a bit more work.

Out of all the ways I have grown since I first came to UWC the academic and intellectual is the most quantifiable. The last couple weeks have been the end of year exams so all the knowledge I have obtained is bouncing through my head. I find myself applying the business cycle to things I hear about the American economy, applying physics to why it is so hard to get out of bed in the morning and cultural dimensions in psychology to my relationship with my Turkish roommate.

In addition to academic and intellectual growth I have matured and grown as a person. I have become more aware of my emotions and more capable of expressing myself. I have learned to understand and appreciate the morals and values my parents and community back home gave me and apply them to my life here, but I am also learning to leave room for more and let my perspective be altered by those around me. I have cried with frustration, loneliness, disappointment, and joy. I have laughed and shared precious moments, I have prayed in mosques, and churches, to rivers, mountains, Allah, Pacha Mama, and God. How is all this possible? I have no idea, it blows me away!

Today is the last school day of my 1^st year at UWC. Thank you everyone for making this experience possible and making it as wonderful as it has been!!!!!! I can’t wait for next year and I want my last 10 days in Mostar to last as long as possible!

Spring in Mostar

Sunshine on faces, flowers on trees, fruit in the markets, I have never lived in a place were spring does not involve huge amounts of slush and mud... and it's kinda nice :)

Burdva Montenegro

With 7 days off of school, three friends and I decided to check out Montenegro! After about a 7 hour bus ride though Bosnian mountains, along the Croatian coast, and though Montenegrin forests we arrived in Burdva at an amazing little hostel were we had our own privet room. We spent most of the time just relaxing. Catching up on sleep in the sun, or cooking good food for once (after dorm food). Also with final exams coming up in may we started to review our subjects and finish up big assignments for the end of the year. However we did get out to see the city a bit too. Burdva is on the coast of Montenegro and has beautiful beaches and is surrounded by small forested mountains. This time of year the whole city smelled like flowers and salt water (a wonderful thing to inhale while going on a morning run). Now back at school it just seems like a dream :)

The earth game

Hunger Banquet. Spanish Room. Friday evening.

As people entered they were randomly assigned “lower” “middle” or “upper class” seating. The upper class, 15% of the world’s population in our simulation, was represented by six privileged people who sat at a fancy table and were served appetizers and a nutritious-delicious curry dinner. The middle class, 25% of the population, 12 people, were served rice at plain tables. The lower class, 60%, 30 people, were forced to sit on the floor and given one pot of rice to share. After a debrief discussion, and lower class rioting, our elegant waiters transitioned the room and gave all of the lower class tables and food to eat. Meanwhile, Nikola began a World Today presentation on waste.

Next was the trash fashion show were models strutted outfits made entirely out of garbage down the runway in the Spanish room. Maida and Lusia were the primary design team. Outfits included Lusia(Belarus) in a strapless blue trash bag dress with a belt, Hilary(USA) in a second strapless, two-piece magenta and navy broken umbrella dress, Ana(BiH) in a cute flouncy dress with a top made out of fluttering receipts and an aluminum foil scrunched skirt, and Pierre(Belgium) in amour made from coffee cups, with wood sword, and a Styrofoam shield, decorated with coffee cups from the school machine, created by Maggie Bursch(USA). Kristina(BiH) wore a 50s style dress made out of newspaper, with a bent umbrella attaché, while Yenner(Turkey) walked in a newspaper shirt. Maida(BiH), an aspiring fashion designer, wore a hip 80s style trash-bag blouse with poofed sleeves, and a short skirt with coffee cup plaits. Finally, the princess of the evening, modeling a trash ball-gown, our very own Sara(USA), wore a multi-layered blue trash-bag high-waisted skirt, a semi-transparent plastic wrap strapless top, decorative plastic evening gloves, topped off with a jauntily attached hat created from a mop, newspaper, with a bubble wrap veil.

This is part of an article written by Hilary Jhonson

The next day we organized "the earth game which is another simulation of wealth and power distribution in the world. I acted as a police officer:

Just one Child

One of the first times I went to refugee camp we were playing with the children and I noticed a really shy little girl watching from a distance. When I tried to approach her, she just ran away. But she was jump-roping so I got our jump-rope and jump-roped too. We did tricks together, but from a distance and smiled at each other. Suddenly her mother came out of the house and called her in. I couldn’t stop thinking about this little girl and just in our short and distant encounter she had really touched me. After this I continued going to Refugee camp almost every week, but I did not see her for a very long time, we were working on making a room for the children to play in so I was distracted and kind of forgot about her.

Recently I went and she was there again watching from a distance, I approached her and this time she let me. I started drawing with her and she taught me the names of colors in the local language and I taught them to her in English. After drawing for a while she got out her jump rope and I got ours and we jump roped for awhile. When she got board of this she invited me into her house. It was very small but well kept and cozy, after living in dorms it was nice to be in a house even though the entire thing was smaller than 16 by 16 feet. Her mother was there making dinner and she offered me juice. I spoke the little local I know and learned some new words as the little girl; Ana Marija showed me her toys. Worn out baby dolls that had drawings on the faces, a few assorted stuffed animals, tiny cups she used as bottles to feed her dolls, and a few plastic jewels she kept in a special little box. I took one of the baby dolls into my arms and cradled it. Immediately I was eight years old again. We fed our babies, drank some more juice then went to take her pet tiger for a walk. The tiger reminded my of my own stuffed animal tiger that had been my favorite toy when I was her age. We walked the tiger, then played tag, we raced, got chased my stray dog, then chased them, and I saw the refugee camp from the perspective of an eight year old girl. We played for three hours until it was time for me to leave. I was sad to go back to my 17year old life and she was sad to see me go. The next couple weeks I was unable to go to the camp because of school, but I thought about her often, and every time I smiled, I couldn’t wait to see her again.

When I could finally go to the camp again I kept looking toward her house waiting for her to come out. Finally she did. I ran to her and we embraced, she giggled as I picked her up in a big hug. We then started to play again, we played with a ball, and played racing until her mother came out and called her inside, about five minutes latter she came out again and we resumed playing until her mother began to yell at me. I did not understand what she was saying because as I mentioned my local is very limited so I went and got a local student to translate for me they told me the mother was saying that Ana Marija was sick so she could not play. The girl looked very healthy to me so I asked if it would be ok if we just sat and drew, the mother said that would by okay. After drawing for a while once again the mother started speaking firmly to us, so once again I went and got a peer of mine to translate. As we approached the mother she yelled at us telling us to leave her alone to “go away” this is when another woman from the camp explained to us that Ana Maria’s mother was mentally ill. I was very confused, since the other day she had been so nice to me. Ana Marija kept beckoning me to come play with her so after a short while a continued to play with her, she also explained to me by moving her hand by her head that her mother was not right in the mind, I was confused and saddened by this.

We were picking little flower off of weeds on the edge of the camp when her mom approached us again. Ana Marija went to her with a tiny bouquet and gave it to her, she smelled it and smiled for the first time that day. We continued picking flowers and then began to dance to nursery songs. Soon her mother joined us, smiling, dancing, singing and clapping her hands, she went into the house and brought out some dress-up hats and masks for us to wear and we danced around in a circle laughing and singing. The woman I saw now dancing and singing with us seemed nothing like the one who had moments before yelled at us and told us to go away. We kept dancing and singing until it was time for me to leave once again.

On the bus ride back to the city that day I kept thinking about Ana Marija and her mother, and I tried to make sense of what I had just experienced. I realized that Ana Marija probably took care of her mother just as much as her mother took care of her. I found out from other volunteers that Ana Marija also had a brother who was involved with a lot of the drugs that were brought into the camp. This also troubled me. This little girl who played with dolls, and had a pet tiger just as I did lived a very challenging life that was hidden behind her playful smile. I keep asking myself questions: where will she end up? What is the best thing for her? To remain with her real mother in a refugee camp? Or to go someplace else? Does she have a reliable adult in her life? What can I do? What do all the other children have hidden behind their smiles? All I know for sure is that I am going to keep going back and try to make her and the other children of the camp’s life a little brighter.

Next Generation

For the past couple years UWC in Mostar (my school) has been struggling financially to keep going. For a while last year they didn't even know if there would be the next generation which is mine. However this year things are looking better. Recently however the board visited our school and had a meeting with our administration. One of the things that one of the major board members said that really helped us have hope and faith in the school is that "UWC in Mostar is the cutting edge of UWCs" this really made us realize how even though the school has been struggling to survive it is worth it. Because of being in a post conflict area and that the school gives full scholarships to all students from Bosnia and Herzegovina to keep a large local population in the school it has been struggling but those are also the reasons that make it amazing and unique.

The reason The Board was here was to decide if there would be new students next year and if so how many. Naturally this caused some suspense in the school; anticipation the outcome of the meeting which would determine the future of the school. After some time so anticipation it was shared that next generation we would have 100 new students (twice the number of students in my generation) which returns the number of students to the normal and optimum number for UWCs!!!!!!

Here are some pictures of "Waiting for Godot" play, it was such an amazing experience to try acting. Everything went really well, but what blew me away the most was that it was adjusted, directed, choreographed, organized and preformed by students.

Waiting for Godot

After on of the main actors in a school play the theater class was putting on dropped out because she didn't have the time, the directer, a boy in my class, asked me if I wanted to play the part. I have never acted in my life but I have always wanted to I said yes. Now all my time is put into memorizing lines hahah. The play in "Waiting for Godot" but done a little differently to match the nature of our school. The play will be preformed in 6 different languages (French, English, German, Spanish, Serbo-Croatian, Hebrew), with the characters speaking different languages to each other, but always with English in the scene to keep the non bilingual audience on track. I will post more about it and more pics later. : )

SKIING BIH!!!!!

I finally made it to Jahorina Bosnia and Herzegovinas biggest ski mountain that was used in the '88 Olympics!!!!!! It felt so good to be on snow again!!!! A blue bird sky and great friends to ski with, I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the weekend. I love this country more and more every minute.

Back in Mostar

After a month long break where I returned to Alaska and visited my sister at university in Oregon I have returned to school and Mostar. My vacation was amazing! I was able to spend time with family, friends, and snow :), but near the end of my trip I started to realize that my life right now is not in Alaska but in Mostar. UWCiM is where I need to be now. Upon returning to school I have felt myself settling back into school life and classes with a new found confidence in how comfortable things feel to me now. I am no longer feeling my way around as much as before, I have a better understanding of the place and the school, I feel right here despite of the challenges I know I will face.

Along with a sense of belong here at school, in Mostar, I also felt a strong connection to Alaska, it became rooted in me that Alaska is where I am from, that I love the land and the people and they are a big part of who I am and who I always will be. Although for the next few years I will probably spend most of my time outside of Alaska, I know it is a place where I can always return to, always call home.