Finding the Irish staple at the Gulu Havana Club on a hot Febuary night was surreal enough, but it followed one of the most incredible days I have had in my life. This post is bound to be word intensive, as I am trying to recount the most singular day of Feb 16th. It began at 0700 when Chelsea, Adam (from Montreal) and I met at the Uganda Post Office in Kampala. We had seats on the 0800 Post Bus direct to Gulu in northern Uganda. Readers who haven't heard of Gulu, or the conflict in the north, are referred to the following sites: www.guluwalk.com, and www.ugandarising.com Both sites have Victoria connections: The Gulu walk was held in November in Victoria and across Canada (and the world) to raise awareness and money. Karolina, I, Sandi and Jamal (from VicHeart), and a contingent from Oaklands Chapel took part. The movie Uganda Rising was shown at UVic at the Amnesty International Film Festival last year. Anyways, back to the story.
The bus ride was most enjoyable: Chelsea brought coffee (rare-ish here) and lipid-laden baked goods, the middle America country music was blaring proudly (think Leanne Womak, Dolly Parton- I loved it by the way!), and the back of the bus read "God Bless". You can picture the scene. On the way, we passed baboons, scenery, etc. Once we got into Gulu (5 hrs later), we had very brief walk to Erin's residence (see Erin's blog linked to this site) at CPAR (Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief). Erin is working with CPAR to plan and conduct conflict resolution workshops in the Internally Displaced People (IDP) camps. ** Don't worry, I think I'm through the acronymns**
Our timing was such that we were invited along with a freelance documentary maker to go to one of these camps and observe the conflict resolution training in action. Our experience is difficult to describe in words. Small, round huts with thatched roofs, many children, little infrastructure, goats, cows, ducks, chickens. These children would follow us mzungos around in droves like we were Santa Claus or something. The pictures will do this better justice. The advent of the digital camera has revolutionized, in my opinion, the photography of people in places like this. When you can take their picture then turn around and show them, they are amazed. People would be laughing, screaming, running to grab children, friends, just to see their picture. I spent a good 30 minutes just taking photos and then showing people. Their joy and wonder was unsurpassed by anything I have seen before- no exaggeration. One topless woman even strode up defiantly, hands on hips, for her personal shot! (unfortunately, not posted here!) At this point, I should make it clear that although I had quite the experience, and the people seemed happy, these camps are not good or healthy places. The people are dependent on imported food and clothes, there are scarcely any jobs, alcoholism is a problem, STDs are a problem. Things are getting better, but the situation is still grim.
The story continues, read on! After leaving the camp, we checked into our hotel rooms briefly before leaving for the Acholi Inn (named for the people of this region) for dinner. The transport was by boda boda- motorcycles that will take you anywhere in town. I have avoided these like the plague as I have seen how they drive (helmetless, weaving in and out, driving on sidewalks etc.), but peer pressure is a tough mother! At the Acholi Inn, I passed a young man wearing a Concordia sweatshirt. Within minutes, we were in a room with a dozen other Concordia students! The student society of Concordia is funding a 5 year project here, and will have student volunteers here on rotation the whole time. They have even bought half of the Acholi Inn as a base of operations. We ended up outside, around a bonfire, with beer and marshmallows (imported)- it could have been a typical beach or lawn in Canada. You can imagine the strangeness of it all. I pet a chicken. To top it off, Adam (with us in Kampala) recognized an old friend from highschool back in Quebec. Here in Gulu.
The last chapter takes place at the Havana Club, where they serve Guiness, among other things. The people were happy and friendly, the music lively and upbeat. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would be singing and dancing in northern Uganda. The night went on and on, we met Ugandans, and heard lots of increadible stories of real life under the menace of the LRA. One girl's story in particular touched me, but is probably better told in person. We are going to church with her tomorrow before heading back to Kampala. Gulu is a much quieter and more peaceful town than Kampala- but it comes with a very dark history that I would urge all to explore. **Unfortunately, I am having trouble uploading the pictures, stay posted**
The bus ride was most enjoyable: Chelsea brought coffee (rare-ish here) and lipid-laden baked goods, the middle America country music was blaring proudly (think Leanne Womak, Dolly Parton- I loved it by the way!), and the back of the bus read "God Bless". You can picture the scene. On the way, we passed baboons, scenery, etc. Once we got into Gulu (5 hrs later), we had very brief walk to Erin's residence (see Erin's blog linked to this site) at CPAR (Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief). Erin is working with CPAR to plan and conduct conflict resolution workshops in the Internally Displaced People (IDP) camps. ** Don't worry, I think I'm through the acronymns**
Our timing was such that we were invited along with a freelance documentary maker to go to one of these camps and observe the conflict resolution training in action. Our experience is difficult to describe in words. Small, round huts with thatched roofs, many children, little infrastructure, goats, cows, ducks, chickens. These children would follow us mzungos around in droves like we were Santa Claus or something. The pictures will do this better justice. The advent of the digital camera has revolutionized, in my opinion, the photography of people in places like this. When you can take their picture then turn around and show them, they are amazed. People would be laughing, screaming, running to grab children, friends, just to see their picture. I spent a good 30 minutes just taking photos and then showing people. Their joy and wonder was unsurpassed by anything I have seen before- no exaggeration. One topless woman even strode up defiantly, hands on hips, for her personal shot! (unfortunately, not posted here!) At this point, I should make it clear that although I had quite the experience, and the people seemed happy, these camps are not good or healthy places. The people are dependent on imported food and clothes, there are scarcely any jobs, alcoholism is a problem, STDs are a problem. Things are getting better, but the situation is still grim.
The story continues, read on! After leaving the camp, we checked into our hotel rooms briefly before leaving for the Acholi Inn (named for the people of this region) for dinner. The transport was by boda boda- motorcycles that will take you anywhere in town. I have avoided these like the plague as I have seen how they drive (helmetless, weaving in and out, driving on sidewalks etc.), but peer pressure is a tough mother! At the Acholi Inn, I passed a young man wearing a Concordia sweatshirt. Within minutes, we were in a room with a dozen other Concordia students! The student society of Concordia is funding a 5 year project here, and will have student volunteers here on rotation the whole time. They have even bought half of the Acholi Inn as a base of operations. We ended up outside, around a bonfire, with beer and marshmallows (imported)- it could have been a typical beach or lawn in Canada. You can imagine the strangeness of it all. I pet a chicken. To top it off, Adam (with us in Kampala) recognized an old friend from highschool back in Quebec. Here in Gulu.
The last chapter takes place at the Havana Club, where they serve Guiness, among other things. The people were happy and friendly, the music lively and upbeat. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would be singing and dancing in northern Uganda. The night went on and on, we met Ugandans, and heard lots of increadible stories of real life under the menace of the LRA. One girl's story in particular touched me, but is probably better told in person. We are going to church with her tomorrow before heading back to Kampala. Gulu is a much quieter and more peaceful town than Kampala- but it comes with a very dark history that I would urge all to explore. **Unfortunately, I am having trouble uploading the pictures, stay posted**
1 comment:
Hi Chris...
great blog, I finally actually read every word!!
I created my own bolg too now.
Just haven't really figured it out yet. It's karolinalife
See you soon!
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