Kope Cafe #2

A month has gone by in what has been a hectic, complicated period of extreme growth. I’ve relied on strength from above to continue the progress of Kope Café. Nothing goes as planned, nothing happens on time, things fall apart, get stolen, lost, damaged, with dozens of people to manage in constant chaos. Therefore, I will tell the story of Kope Café not through my exhausted brain, but in a much more fresh perspective. I will tell the progress of Kope through a friend named Okello. I met Okello when I first arrived to Gulu. He and his friend had invited me to visit their high school and to check out their artwork. At nineteen years old, Okello is serious, a demeanor that always seemed to have matured unnaturally fast. On the rare occasion that Okello cracked a smile, though, the whole World seemed to lighten up. After touring the school, I didn’t see Okello for months.

During the first week of renovating what is to become Kope Café, Okello walked in. I was measuring the are for which Franco and Jimmy, the eccentric designing duo, would break through the floor to install a tree in the middle of the café, serving as the base for a balcony. Over a shrieking, sparking tile cutter, Okello asked if there was any work available. In an area like Gulu, where poverty is prevalent everywhere, this was quickly becoming a routine conversation during my day at the café. As sparks flew, not from contact with the tile, but from the electrical outlet, where these designers had frayed the ends of the power tool and stuffed the two shards of wire into the socket, I told Okello no. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with another person working on the café. Jimmy and Franco were more than enough to deal with. A few days later, as we were cutting, by hand, a tree trunk 2 feet in diameter, Okello walked in again. In between breaks, not to rest, but to replace the rickety saw blade, which broke after 2 hours of cutting the base of the tree, Okello asked if I could give him some work. In between arguing with the designers over where the money I had given them to rent a power saw, I told Okello no. The following week, as we were lifting this massive tree trunk with fitted iron rods into the holes we had created in the floor of the café, Okello walked in. While realizing that the designers had incorrectly measured the holes, and we were going to have to again rent the power drill to fix their mistake, I told Okello that I had no work for him.

The following week, as Jimmy and I were meeting with an engineer to discuss the supplies purchased to cement the tree base into place, Okello walked in. Over a heated conversation, in realizing that Jimmy had bought all of the wrong supplies, I told Okello no. This time he did not leave. He sat in the shop. Confidently, sat in silence. After the conversation died down, and Jimmy left to go buy new supplies, he approached. He noticed that one of the tables we had had made were broken, and offered to fix it overnight. He was asking for 5,000 shillings, including supplies. Costs aside, this would give him $1.20 in labor to transport the table, and fix it entirely. Exasperated by his persistence, I had no reason not to comply with his request. He tied this enormous table to the back of his bike and rode off. The next day, he returned. The table was repaired, sanded and painted. It looked like new. That week, Jimmy stole items from the café. Realizing it the following morning, I sat in the café alone. I felt completely defeated. I could not imagine how to proceed from this loss. I felt so pitiful, in which the café wallowing in cement, rubble and a half standing tree trunk sticking out of the floor. In darkness, I sat wondering if all of the effort, in steering around hurdles of obstacles were going to vain, here. In that instance, light broke the darkness, as the door swung open. In walked Okello. He asked if there was any work available.

From that day on, Okello has worked tirelessly, nearly every afternoon, to bring this café to fruition. He and his friend, David, the most genuine of carpenters, have worked tirelessly. On weekends and after school late into the evening, this efficient, reliable duo have been heaven-sent.. After paying Okello his first big sum of money, he went straight to his high school, to pay his fees, which he had not been able to pay this semester. Unbeknownst to me, his persistence was rooted in his desperation to stay in school. As a total orphan, he has been paying his way through one of the best and most expensive schools in Gulu. This last semester, the Principal had threatened to kick him out of school for unpaid fees. He pleaded with the Administration, saying he would have the school fees by the end of the month. His persistence finally won me over, and eventually won over my heart. The café is nearly ready to open. A tree stands proudly, beautifully in the middle of the café. Benches, coffee bars, stools and tables have been created. And in the process I have made a great friend. On a big payday for a week of work, Okello wanted to talk to me. We sat down and all he wanted to say was thanks, for two reasons. The first was that he was now able to go to school through the next semester, and into the next year. And secondly, he had made his first Western friend. It was a great moment as I gave him a handshake full of cash.