Tonight we are all Acholis

This weekend was our staff party. Amy, another intern hosted the party, funded by her grandmother who wanted to host “a celebration for the Ugandan people”. The party started off with my choir performing as people arrived. It was a pretty cool situation- about 25 of my favorite choir members together singing in front of my coworkers, myself standing in the center of the Choir. It was a great 30 minute performance, and a lot of my co-workers got up to sing with them. It was a tremendous moment. Later that evening, we were dancing out side when rain started falling. The majority of people moved under cover, but many of us braved the elements and danced in the rain, getting completely soaked. Many of the American staff were also there, and gradually as we danced like crazy, the pool next to the dance floor became more and more tempting. The pool, at the Acholi Inn is the only pool in Gulu, and it is rare that anyone swims because they charge the price of two (maybe three) typical dinners to swim there. All of a sudden, one person gets pushed in and the domino effect begins, as people start jumping in, fully dressed. Wearing a collared shirt, slacks and leather shoes, I couldn’t help but jump in wholeheartedly. In general, Ugandans can’t swim, so it was only the American staff in the water, swimming with semi-formal wear on, until...our most respected leader, the person that made the whole Organization happen, (a woman who has been officially nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize) Jolie Okot, Invisible Children’s Country Director, ran along the side of the pool, in a full formal dress, and jumped in! She swam to the side, got out, threw her head back in laughter, and then jumped right back in. It was truly inspiring and hilarious. She always claims that at staff parties, no one has titles- we are all Acholis!

Lion Encounter

In exchange for young Ugandans witnessing my first cow-milking, I observed many first experiences for Ugandans this weekend. We took the trip I had envisioned in countless dreams as a kid. And if I was anticipating this moment, I can only imagine how an Acholi must have felt, finally seeing giraffes, elephants and lions for the first time, in her own backyard. At Uganda’s National Park, 15 Ugandan children, all of whom have been horrifically affected by this war, were given the opportunity to see the timeless fixures of their Land, that existed well before misery and tragedy had consumed it. It was incredible to witness. Two of the girls from Invisible Children received a grant to teach a photography course to Sponsored Students from our Program.
Their final project allowed these students a trip to take photos in Merchison Falls National Park. Only 3 hours from Gulu, none of these children (some of whom had been abducted child soldiers) had even seen the Nile river. Imagine their delight, fascination and total fear of getting onto a ferry for the first time in their life, and cruising down the Nile River, seeing hippos, crocodiles and water buffalo. For once, we were all in the same boat, and could relate on the most human level- in total fascination of God’s wonders, in this awe-inspiring situation. I felt so privileged to be a witness to this sociological study.
Twice during the two-day safari, I thought the kids were going to die. Once when we spotted a lion only 40 meters from the van. All of a sudden, the door of the van, in which the majority of the kids were, swings open. Six of the kids run out of the van and start climbing up the side, to stand on the top of the roof. Others stand in the open door to get a better view, while the rest of the kids hang out of the open windows, including the driver, (who had been hired on the condition that he knew this National Park like the back of his hand, only to find out he had never been there before and didn’t even know how to use the 4 wheel drive)- all itching to get a glimpse of this animal. The Ugandan Tour Guide, runs over with gun in hand, screaming at the kids, and driver to get back in the van, as he jumps back into his truck. He’s obviously in disbelief from the contrast of this group compared to his last tour, when the German Tourists barely peeked their head out of their sealed LandCruiser. Quite an experience. The other time it happened, the kids were standing, again on the top of the van, when an elephant began charging towards the van, its trunk trumpeting in anger. I thought they were doomed, but luckily, the elephant subsided, and the van continued on its way. An amazing weekend. Since Sunday, everytime I close my eyes I see this cluster of giraffes, like pencils standing in disarray.

My favorite afternoon

It’s funny how a place once foreign can become so comfortable. Yesterday I caught myself saying that I was going to miss how easy it is to live in Gulu. Granted this was while walking on a narrow, red dirt path through green foliage under a pink painted sky. Nevertheless, it caused me to laugh, thinking about my first day in Gulu; recalling my avoidance to sit on the lawn, fearing that African grass was packed with disease-filled chlorophyll.
For a place that is war-torn, run down, and pathetically drab, Gulu will often surprise; how in the period between one bend in the road, or one shift in the sunlight, it will morph to something beautiful. And when the environment makes that slight adjustment, it only takes a few seconds for the mind to catch up, and you realize suddenly that life is delicately soft; opposed to obnoxiously hot and irritating only minutes prior. And the most blessed way to find these crisp and striking moments is to stroll around the villages on the outskirts of the town after work.
Yesterday Karl, another intern, and I walked around sunset through the lush village that lies behind our house. Walking along the path, we meandered through people’s backyards and gardens, while Acholi children ran to line the path to greet us, shake our hand, and giggle uncontrollably. The brave ones remain there, staring in awe, while the more introverted run off to tell their Mothers what just happened. It is easy to feel a part of a celebrity Mzoongo parade everytime one walks past the streets of town. Women sitting outside of their huts always outreach their hands, a knife tucked between fingers, smiling with genuine warmth. The knives are permanently fixtures in their hands as they continuously shuck, whittle, scrape and chop their vegetables in preparation for their family to congregate for dinner. We finally arrived at the most beautiful plot of land I have ever seen. The woman was so friendly, Theresa. She greeted us, offered chairs, as the sun set over her hilly, vegetative plot. Rain was nearing, but it was impossible to leave. Her brother was milking their three cows, ushering each one into a wooden holder, tying its back legs to avoid kicks, and crouching to milk. I asked him to let me try, and the kids laughed as I cautiously milked the cow, for the first time in my life. Rain began to brush across our location, and we ran for cover in her outdoor hut- like a homemade gazebo. Watching the sunset from there, her daughter brought in table and chair, and some fresh picked sugarcane. It was a tremendous afternoon, as we spit sweet splinters of sugarcane towards a setting sun.