We're not in Kampala anymore

September 23, 2004 (This is from a few days ago, I just haven't been able to find internet)

I had a very smooth ride from Kampala to Gulu, despite some disturbing stories that my driver relayed along the way (I don’t think they are appropriate for general consumption, but I will communicate individually). But the drive from Kampala was a journey through recent Ugandan history, starting at Luwero, where President Museveni started his guerilla war. My taxi driver described the terror of that time, telling me that huts required both a front and back door (huts traditionally have one entrance) so that people could flee out the opposite door that the rebels entered. After four hours, four districts, vervet monkeys, baboons, and crossing over the Nile River, I came to my hot destination.

So I arrive wearily into Gulu. I am anxious to have a look around, as this will be my home for the coming months – it is very hot and quite small (a good challenge for a city girl). Lina, a wonderfully energetic and outgoing woman from Karamoja (interestingly the people of Karamjoa believe that all cattle belong to them, thus upsetting their neighbors when they go on cattle raids), greets me with a big hug and takes me to my lodging for the time being. Then I jump right into the International Peace Day Conference events. I have been warmly received and many are receptive to the work I want to do on women’s issues, especially as it appears the 18-year conflict may be coming to an end. Lina has invited me on at ACORD (British organization) to do some documentation and advocacy. This, in addition to my collaboration with the University, should open up a wealth of resources. I have even received an invitation to join the Ugandan People’s Defense Forces (UPDF) – I suppose that can be my backup.

I visited an IDP camp (internally displaced persons camp – essentially refugees who haven’t crossed an international border into another country) that is located just outside of Gulu on Wednesday. It is essentially a huge camp of traditional African huts, but the conditions in which these people exist are really dire. The people who have fled the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) to these camps are primarily women, children, and older men. IDPs are waiting for security and peace so that they can return to their own land where they can be self-sufficient. I was told that women will leave at 8am everyday in search of firewood to do the cooking and not return until 3pm, due to the great distance they must travel. This reveals that not only are families eating just one meal a day, but that women’s personal security is at great risk, due to landmines, potential for sexual abuse, and rebel activity. There are also just hundreds and hundreds of children – some who have escaped the LRA and others who are attempting to avoid abduction.

Aside from the conference, I am already confronted by the realities of this 18-year conflict. As I was eating the other night I noticed two girls trying to get a glimpse of the mzungu. When I saw them walking away, I noticed they both had an arm severed, which is not an uncommon practice of the Lord’s Resistance Army. A little girl approached me on my way home telling me that she had been kicked out of her home and she asked me for a dress. While I did not have a dress to give her, nor did I have any food on me, I sent her with a small bit of money. This morning I walked to some of the market stalls for some bananas and pineapple when a young boy, David, approached me and walked me back to my hotel. He told me how he can’t go to school and that his entire family has been killed. He is convinced that getting to Kampala will be the solution to his problems and the fulfillment of his dreams. He told me that he was hungry, so I sent him off with some bananas to share with his friends. I think my greatest challenge here will be the children – they have seen true hell.

Miscellaneous
Food: Not necessarily by choice, but Gulu has put me on a diet. In addition to being quite busy and the caution I must take after dark, I haven’t really found a wealth of restaurants or stores. In Kampala you can pretty much get anything these days (especially awesome Indian food), so I am finding it tough to stick to the Northern Uganda staples of millet, matoke (made from platains), and other basics. Perhaps it will grow on me?
Living: For the time being, I am staying at a local hotel until I find a house or apartment. There is a serious shortage of housing due to the large influx of people into Gulu – but some new work colleagues have my back, so hopefully something will come through soon. I am just so anxious to get myself settled somewhere to unpack my bags, cook my own food, and do my laundry. There are very few mzungus living in Gulu (actually I have only just met one other), so that explains the fairly constant attention I receive when walking around. But I find that the Acholi people (the people of Gulu and outlying districts) are very kind: Mzungu, how are you? Where are you going mzungu? Mzungu, are you going on a journey?