Pre-Departure and Night One
Having heard some of the horror stories of the 20 year civil war between the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and government of Uganda, I left Kampala’s bus park curious and apprehensive. Curious, because I wanted to know more about what happened. Apprehensive because I was entering a former war zone where many of the residents are also victims. Writing this now, after having gone, I can’t quite remember what I was expecting to see, but I kept looking for clues of the warfare; bullet holes, broken buildings and the like. I wanted to know what happened first hand and I had questions:
What was life like during the violent times?
If life was really that bad, why didn’t the people just leave?
How did you make it through when so many others didn’t?
How has the recent peace changed the lives of the current residents?
On the way I found myself wondering what a passenger in route to Gulu might be thinking when times were bad. I surely would have known about the deadly bus ambushes taking place just south of the city; the only way in. I would also be aware of the fact that arriving at night would be putting my life in danger: the rebels that camouflaged themselves as civilians during the day donned their evil alter egos by night. If I had been away for some time I would also be wondering if my entire family was still living.
Thankfully, my journey was two years removed from the last of the violence and arriving some 5 hours past departure was more relieving than concerning, although we did so after dark. Even then I was free to walk the two blocks necessary where Margaret and I checked into a local guest house – something our fictional passenger of 5 years past would have had severe anxiety over.
Day One
Having slept the sleep of a travel wary fellow I laid down until the signs of a new day’s life became too present to ignore. The light filtered in through our small window, which also brought with it the heavy heat of sub-Saharan Africa. Less oppressive than the humid air off Lake Victoria in Kampala, the marked increased in temperature and perceptibly more powerful sunlight confirmed that which I had been told in advance.
After breakfast/lunch at the Obama Restaurant (he’s a big deal here), Margaret and I met with Sara, the captain of the Girls Kick It (GKI; check the GYPA website for details) team in Gulu, and followed here through town to meet Moses, the coach. A former national team player and coach of 30 years I found him to be one of the fittest 48 year old men I’ve ever met. Gracious, passionate, and committed to his cause, Moses is as a person everything you would hope to find in a coach, mentor, and friend.
Shortly after this introduction we (Margaret, Sara, Moses, and I) met Anna Phillips (the founder of GKI; check the GYPA website again for a short bio) at a locally run café run by an NGO that donates all their profits back into their organization. The food was amazing and cheap!
Later that night we went with Sara to her home and met her sister Hariet. At 28, Hariet has been raising her younger sisters (5 of them) on her own for just over 10 years because of the AIDS induced premature death of her parents. 3 of them, including herself, will finish University this year. To hear her story from her own mouth was an inspiration and something I wish everybody could have heard. Unfortunately, her story is too common.
After a full day and experiencing the welcoming nature of the Acholi people, Sara and her family to be specific, Margaret and I were led back to our guest house by Sara and a man named Lamex who’d played in the Homeless World Cup in South Africa in 2006 on a sponsorship from the GYPA.
Day Two
Waking up late in the day Margaret and I went to Kope Café, the same café we’d met in the day before for breakfast. Over African Tea (milk tea) and a steak sandwich we planned our interview questions for Sara. It was our plan to interview both Sara and Moses on this day to begin the documentation part of our project in Gulu. Though these opportunities would not present themselves today, we were still able to attend the first GKI practice of the new season. We were rewarded with a number of great photos and filmed footage for doing so.
That night, Sara, at the expressed interest of Margaret arranged for us to stay in a grass thatched hut in one of the villages just outside of town. When we arrived at the hut we were asked if we preferred to bath before the sleeping and we both chose to do so. With our bucket of water heated by the open kitchen fire we each took our turn washing ourselves by hand in the small, open roofed shower room just beyond the hut. With just three short walls, a wooden door, a bucket of warm water, some soap and our hands I suddenly became aware of the difficulty of good hygiene without running water.
Imagine the difficulty of washing your hands, brushing your teeth, showering, shaving, much less cooking when the water you gather comes from a pump up to half a mile away. Would you really be so motivated to wash your hands frequently? Would you really bother to brush your teeth as often? What about showering? Is that something you would do as often when the water used could be saved for something more important? Quite simply, the presence of running water – clean or not – is a major advantage to those who wish to reap the benefits of good hygiene.
Much of the same can be said about electricity, but I’ll leave you to ponder the implications of a permanent power outage on your own. I’ll give you one keyword to spark your though process: communication.
Day Three
Waking to the sounds of a waking village life was very similar to falling asleep to them in that they were very different sounds. Not in the sense that I hadn’t hear them before, many were quite normal, everyday sounds like people talking, babies crying and the like. The primary difference was proximity; secondarily, volume; thirdly, variety. When combined, these factors created a world for us independent of experience, but not of imagination. That is to say, the louder than average sounds of conversation, music, children, animals, etc. were all sounds that made sense when they appeared although they may not have been on a list of sounds I could have written to expect before hand.
Sara welcomed us back to the reality of our day with a sweet millet pourage breakfast. Tasty and filling I had two cups before we moved on. Next on the docket was a trip out of town to a hospital and then a tour of her sister Susan’s home. In her sister’s village is where we first began to hear stories of the LRA and the things they did. Things like cutting off the lips and ears, chopping off arms, legs, and shooting children, women and men alike. We were actually made the butt of a light hearted but enlightening joke. In essence, Margaret and I were a little squeamish at the prospect of killing a chicken to eat. At this someone remarked that we Mzungu’s (foreigners) are scared easily by the prospect of death, while the local Ugandan’s were hardened by the fact that they had seen so much. The underlying reality, and joke, though macabre, being that the death we were avoiding was that of a chicken while the deaths they had observed were human.
There were other stories. I will not write them here.
We arrived at a different guest house that night and slept very well.
Day Four
This was our last full day in Gulu. Sara had told us she was leaving for Kampala on this day, so the night before we said our goodbyes and took on the responsibility of traveling on our own. For us, this was a bit of a challenge since we hadn’t really had to worry about directions at all thus far. All in all, we did alright. Actually, if it weren’t for Margaret I’d probably be lost right now. For some reason I just couldn’t get oriented.
After eating we went to Moses’ home and interviewed him on the life in Gulu before and since the violence of the LRA and the efficacy of the GKI programming. His mother made us all lunch. He lives in a small house near his mothers as his wife and daughter passed away some years before. He is, as I mentioned before, a committed and caring mane. Given the resources, this man will accomplish great things.
We followed him to the local soccer stadium for a peace and reconciliation soccer match. Two games were played. The first, an abbreviated match between local prominent figures from both Gulu and neighboring Nebe ran around entertaining the crowd with their impressive, though largely futile efforts to control the ball and put it in the goal. I’ve never heard a crown laugh so much for so long!
The second game was the serious game and it showed. The players were younger, much more highly skilled and motivated to win. As with most players in their prime, athleticism was on display. Moses himself played as well and at 48 he was just as fast as any player on the field. Physically, this guy is about as in-human as I can imagine. Standing 5 feet 6 inches tall at best, none of the twenty-something players could beat him. Afterward he would say that he is still competitive not just because he makes a point of staying healthy, but because the younger guys don’t know the game as well as he does.
A thunder storm rolled in as we left the filled to capacity stadium and walked back to our guest house. We ate dinner and passed the time in conversation, waiting for the rain to subside. It did. We said our goodbyes to Moses for the time being and went to bed.
We were happy to have made such good connections to such caring and passionate people during our stay. We’ve now made great progress on all of our initiatives and are looking forward to implementing them when the times come.
Day Five and Traveling Back to Kampala
In short, we spent 6 hours on the road and one hour waiting for the bus to fill. The buses here, by the way, leave when full, not according to a scheduled departure time. We met a professor from San Fransisco who was working on an incredible project called Free to Play. Look it up. This project combats the contemporary human slavery market and has some ingenious and simple ways of working within individual communities. The man was inspired.
One of the most unexpected events of the day was that Sara, whom we though had left the day before, had decided not to leave then, but at the same time we did. She waltzed right onto the bust and after an excited exchange of hugs we all sat together for the ride back.
OH! I almost forgot, there is a stretch of road under construction between Kampala and Gulu that has over 140 speed bumps in a row. It took us 15 minutes of bouncing before we passed it. The idea is that by creating the speed bumps the construction crew is preventing the loose gravel from flying off the roadway and preventing any future patchwork. Different strokes for different folks. I definitely wouldn’t suggest this method to any road crews here in the states, no matter how much money it saves in traffic signs, cones, and flaggers. Whew!
What a journey! I’m really looking forward to going back.
