Sunup to Sundown Salvation

My early weeks in Gulu have been spent making various observations about the area and trying to understand the current state of this post-conflict community.

First, it was impossible not to notice the evangelic revival movement that has been spreading across equatorial Africa. For an entire week, starting each afternoon around 4 p.m. and lasting late into the evening, an American gospel preacher and a Nigerian evangelical were promoting the practice of becoming a born again Christian, while simultaneously encouraging people to denounce their practice of traditional religions (or as they say ‘witchcraft’). I attended one day, to see the spectacle (even though I could hear everything from my flat over two miles away!), but I didn’t stay for long because I felt rather uncomfortable. 

I will only mention three things about the Crusades. Apparently the day after I attended, a woman who was very ill went on stage, and while the two spiritual leaders were attempting to heal her, she died. Two, they asked people to bring emblems that they used to practice witchcraft. After becoming a ‘born again’ they would pass the items to the front to be placed into bins that would be lit on fire. And last, for the hundredth time, no, I do not need to be saved. I could write more, but I need a little more time to digest the Crusades, to not let that experience cloud my opinion about on the valuable role of spirituality in northern Uganda.

The second observation is related to the space between expectations of development as outlined and promoted by Museveni’s government, and the reality that many communities do not have access to basic services. One of my first mornings in Gulu, I noticed the sound of planes and didn’t think much of it, as there is an airfield in Gulu. However, one of the women I work with mentioned that she and her roommate sometimes run on the road out to the airfield, because it is paved and has little traffic. Hmmm, okay. Well what was this noise? Turns out that the airfield is only used by the military, and that the sound I was hearing was coming from fighter jets. Museveni has a team of pilots training every morning; they swoop low to the ground and I swear, most of the time, they are pretending to be show pilots. I cannot even imagine how much money Museveni intends to spend on this jetfighter program.

6 SU-30 MK2 jetfighters = $730 million

Juxtapose this to the situation on the ground. Policemen and policewomen’s salaries are below the poverty line, meaning that many of the police live in shantytowns and only survive by bribing civilians. Is it surprising that there is rampant corruption? Also, if you are lucky, you will have one or two days of electricity a week. Talk about blackouts? People are more surprised when the lights are actually on. Okay. No electricity? Fine. But for the last couple weeks there hasn’t been any propane either. No electricity and no propane for cooking, either you eat raw or get out your kindling. And on a note of personal irritation, for the last week we have been without running water, leaving my underarms a little too spicy to handle.

Observation three: strange diseases and everyday accidents. As I am sure many of you have heard, there is another Ebola outbreak in Uganda. The Ebola (Sudanese strain) outbreak started in the western district of Kibaale, and has spread to Kampala. It is hard to get descriptive and accurate information about the outbreak, because one of the women who was infected took public transportation from her village to Kampala to get treatment. As of now there are 16 dead, 30 confirmed cases, and over 200 in isolation. All I have to say is that if Gulu is ‘graced’ with the presence of Ebola, I will be barricading myself in my room. I do not want to die by bleeding out all of my orifices.

As for everyday accidents, I am glad I recently boasted about my motorcycle helmet. I met a friend for dinner last Sunday evening, and realized soon after we left the restaurant that I had forgotten my helmet. I flagged down a bodaboda to first take me back to the restaurant and then take me home. On my way back to the restaurant to get my helmet, an oncoming motorcycle tried to overtake a car and didn’t have enough time. I saw the other boda approaching us head-on so I jumped off of the motorcycle into the ditch. A split-second later … CRASH! Who ever said that riding sidesaddle was dangerous? Luckily, no one was hurt, but no helmet = no boda.

The last observation is much more poignant. It’s hard to believe that this town used to be the home of the Lords Resistance Army. Everyone here is so kind, but everyone also has a story about surviving the war. I met a woman who works at a local restaurant, who's name is Beatrice. I thought she was so kind and adorable, that I went to the restaurant she worked at for dinner every night of the week. After a few days she began to talk to me more, and revealed that her entire family (with the exception of one brother) had been killed during the war. Its so hard believing that behind every smile is a similar story. 

First impressions: I love Gulu. It reminds me so much of Wyoming, and the organization that I work with has a strong relationship with the community.  Beneath the surface: it isn’t everyday that on a morning run you run past a primary school (yes primary) for former child soldiers, revealing the realities of a very painful, yet recent past. After over two decades of civil war it’s easy to understand why people hide sorrows with smiles and crave everyday salvation.