Amazing Grace: In conclusion to the last entry

Today, I rode a motorbike to one of Invisible Children's sponsored schools. In the usual heat, my tires whipped through layers of chalky, dusty road. Suddenly, it began to rain. Out of no where. It poured all over the road, soaking through inches of dust, filling deep cracks of dry Earth. Dripping wet, I screamed as loud as I could. Dry season is ending. And perhaps with these refreshing drops, like a prophetic que, peace for Acholi Land. The paper today read "Peace Talks in Final Stages". This Spring could hold more than budding flowers and greenery. It may bring renewed energy and vitality to a land dormant and damaged. Hidden in this newly formed weather, peace may be gathering on the horizon, ready to run alongside the pace of the chariots of clouds.

Budding Peace

Dry season has consumed Gulu. This month has become a test of endurance against the sun, which rises with such innocence in gentle streaks of pink, hiding its true nature as a hellish beast. In America, and especially in the paradise of California, four seasons rotate like a pinwheel, balanced, each one with its own quality to look forward to. Ugandans have two seasons that flop like a fish out of water. When the dry season flips over in January, no Ugandan would admit to looking forward to the next few months ahead. In fact, most locals shudder at the switch in wind patterns, which begin to blow from Sudan, sweeping with it the death and destruction from that place.
The first day the winds turned, our friend, Akidi looked out her window and said, “disease has entered our land”. Trees bow to the ominous message of these winds, and shed their fear to bare limbs. Lush green is blanketed in brown dust, which transforms the environment to a bland palette. Last year’s vibrant harvests are burnt, and throughout the night, fires roar everywhere, as black ash falls from the sky. It is interesting to really feel the underside of vibrancy, which I feel is well controlled in America. We are lucky to not have to see or deal with these kinds of ugly realities. The ying to the yang. It has been difficult living in the midst of it, realizing just how much it has affected everyone’s moods. So many people are becoming sick, and older people are dying during this season. Last week, Okello, my best friend who I wrote about, the one who constructed the café, came to my house early in the morning. One of his last remaining relatives had died unexpectedly. He was in tears, rare to see on a grown Acholi man. I have always seen him as a man, but it was in this morning, with the sun’s budding light, that I saw a different side of him- the boy that he really was. He had no money for a coffin, and being the closest relative in a family that is practically extinct, he was expected to give him a burial. I gave him the money for the coffin, something I have never paid for. He borrowed my camera and took these pictures. I thought I would share a couple of them candidly taken by Okello. I know this is not the most heartwarming of updates. But, it is the reality of the season, and I think it has been beneficial for me to understand this other side to life that I am truly unfamiliar with. If anything it magnifies the beauty of the newly budding trees. And glorifies the cycle of life that is bringing new promises of peace to this land. In a figurative sense, a new season may be emerging with the literal first forming rain cloud of wet season. Peace for the Northerners, in the form of a permanent peace agreement, between the LRA and the government is budding, and looks closest to blooming since 1986. I hope and ask you all to pray for peace, so that the figurative and literal can collide together; that the March rains will carry with it a new era of peace, to refresh this exhausted land.

Photographs taken by Okello

Serving the World

I want to thank all of you- over 40 different people and families - who contributed so generously toward Kope Café. This project, more of an experiment as the first non-profit café of its kind, has been successful because, from day one, it started with selflessness. From Acholi artists who sacrificed countless hours of decorating, to the manager, Judith, who left London to work for free, laughing throughout the crazy opening months. The cafe is a work of love, and you all have continued this spirit of generosity.

Returning to Uganda and Kope Café was bittersweet. It is surreal being back in Gulu, where nothing has changed. The same people are posted on the same corners, the same women carry the same jugs of water from the well, the same little kids smile and wave on the sides of the dusty road. The scene is not nearly as lively or relaxing as the comforts of home this Christmas break. In fact, it is a bit difficult to adjust back, but I know that I am in the right place. After all, this is the place that has challenged me and stretched me creatively and personally beyond what I thought capable; I could not be here, or have the strength without the support of each of you. Nelson Mandela said, “"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world.” You have all played huge in my world, and now it is my turn to extend that generosity. Thank you for your support.

Hosting a meeting the second day I arrived back in Uganda, I sat inside Kope Café, now 3 months old, and looked around the room of bright characters. My heart quivered just knowing the effort they have each made to enable the café to function smoothly. My appreciation turned to invigoration as I announced that we now have the funds from my friends in America to fulfill many of their requests for improvement. There is a lot of work that needs to be done to make this café fully sustainable, well-attended and consistent. Construction on an outside patio starts today, and my hope is that within a couple of weeks we will double our seating capacity. The kitchen will receive proper attention, and the Chef will no longer have to bend down to cut fruit salads on a bench borrowed from HEALS.

In my dreams of September, I eat one last serving of chicken curry, wash my plate, and walk out the front door of a thriving café. My exit takes me through a lush outdoor patio from where I look back at the sign one last time, knowing that the cafe is serving its role as a community hub of creativity and culture. Turning down the street to head home I meet several kids from HEALS and take comfort in knowing that this community-run organization will never have to worry about finding 3 dollars to send a child to elementary school. And, as I return home to you all, the stories of success I bring will confirm that you were a part of this dream and that together, we truly served the world.

HEALS Dancers performing at the Grand Ceremony