A Whirl-wind of Joy

In Lokung with some children in the village.

Trying to capture the emotions and events of my first five days in Africa – in one post especially – is nearly impossible.  I could tell you about our first night in an African home, bathing with a small bowl and a bar of soap, seeing a monkey cross the road, the impressive use of agriculture, witnessing all sorts of women with bags of charcoal on their heads and babies on their backs, hearing of the three day old child in the village who had just died of malaria, bargaining with the locals for bananas and pineapples quite literally straight from the tree, and attempting to eat the special offering of both chicken heart and gizzard at lunch, but I will not.  I will save all of the details for my journal, and write about what has impressed me the most.

If you are not aware, Northern Ugandans have been suffering from a terrible war for the past twenty-five years, and the literal struggle is just now coming to an end.  The LRA, a rebel army formed in the north, has attempted to destroy every part of this place out of an insatiable hunger for power, killing and destroying people with recklass abandon.  The awful scent of fear and destruction lingers in this place, and I felt it the second I arrived.  As I watched my first African sunset, my new friend Vincent, a Padibe native, tried to explain the psychological impact of the war that lingers like an invisible cloud.  Having worked as a psychosis relief facilitator, he had many stories to tell from the children he had worked with: some had been forced to rape and kill their sisters, others were forced to kill their own parents with a hoe in order to save the rebel army a bullet; even more had witnessed the rebels storm into their elementary school classrooms, murder their teacher, and eat her remains or be killed; others watched as their family members’ limbs, hands, ears, and noses were cut off.  Even worse, some children were taken as soldiers and displaced from their communities, brainwashed, and forced to commit these terrible acts.  These former child soldiers who managed to escape do not remember who they are or where they were from and have been taken in as orphans – one can only imagine what they have seen and the post traumatic issues they still carry in their minds.

The elders have told us that the psychosis among some is the number one issue at hand and the best way that we can be of help in this community would be to remedy this problem: now that violence has been introduced, people are hateful toward one another in other ways, dismantling the community one belligerent act at a time.  The post-war psychosis and introduction of fear and hatred have manifested in land wars that have started because the people have now left the refugee camps and returned to the land and it is difficult for them to remember where their land began and ended as well as the fact that many of the elders who once knew the premises (rocks and trees) have passed on.  So neighbors are fighting instead of cooperating: cutting down one another’s crops and killing their neighbors’ livestock, which essentially destroys the family and community unit.  We are told that this psychological disaster is a silent killer among the Acoli people, and this was the message of the committee when we asked what Three Holy Women Parish could do to help next.  Noah, the counselor, innocently asked if we could send a textbook here from America to help with this, as this is the number one problem in their opinion.  This is how desperate they are for any sort of solution, but as we know the complicated answers to these questions will take much more than information from a book.

When I first arrived, I figured that it was inappropriate of me to ask people about the war, but after seeing my first community in Lokung yesterday, where the refugee camp was created not even five years ago, I knew that I had to know more about this if I was to truly understand the culture of the people of Northern Uganda, and determine how I can be of use here.  And you know what is one of the many unbelievably amazing things about the Ugandan people?  They are not afraid to talk about their past, their emotions, their problems.  They have clearly figured out that there is strength and growth vulnerability; that telling the stories is the only way to let go of the pain.  And I feel so honored that they are able to openly tell me their truth – for this is the only way I can come close to an attempt at understanding what it means to be from Padibe. 

When I hear of the war, the destruction, the violence, when I think about the impossibility of the survival of this nation and see it beginning to have life – through the return of animals, cultivation of crops, the addition of clean water filtration systems – I know that this is God’s work.  If one were to look at all of the factors that are against these people and yet still see them able to laugh, smile, joke, and play it is truly a miracle, like the flower that grows through the cracks in a sidewalk.  The perseverance of the human heart and spirit has already brought me to tears several times over the past five days.  I know that the things that are working against the people are many – and the psychosis and violence are only a few – but to see that they are enthusiastic about growth and renewal – sustainable projects as well as community growth, I am totally heartened and dedicated to the betterment of these people for life.  We have proposed a sunflower press project which would be a huge commitment but also a hopeful endeavor for the people as it would bring them some steady income and financial security, and they have been nothing but excited, constantly telling us how ready they are for something like this.  The people are a true symbol of redemption with an adamant faith and extremely wide-open hearts and minds.  I am increasingly impressed by who they are as humans every day I am here.

Today we went to test some of the water filtration systems that our parish has already put into place which really led us into the fields and the huts of the people of Lokung.  This was my first truly integrative experience with the people as I was able to see and meet them up close, inside of their huts as well as their lives and hearts.  As is probably the case with most blonde haired, blue-eyed, white girls, the little kids came out of their huts to look at me.  It’s such an odd feeling because I feel awkward: my American instincts tell me to humbly look away, but instead I wave and smile and am always pleasantly surprised by the amount of little African hands that wave back.  My first memorable experience in the village was in the hut of one woman, Gilda, as we checked the status of the water filter that was installed a year ago thanks to the efforts of Three Holy Women parish.  She was taking water from a sitting pool – literally in a basin of cow dung – for her filtration system, and it was coming out clean; truly I could not have been more impressed by these efforts.  This, also, was the first hut I was able to see and was so impressed by the thought process behind how it was built, the manner in which it is kept, and the complexity of the layout: bedding on one side, pots hanging from very thoughtfully placed metal hangers, chairs that fold to create space, etc.  This woman was so human, this was her life, and I was taken aback by the laborious and beautiful home she had created.

So, when Shawn and the other men were in the other huts checking the water, I decided to go and try to talk to the children.  I said hello in Acoli, and they giggled at my more than likely terrible American/ Acoli accent.  As I stepped forward and outstretched my arm, some were more than willing and excited to shake my hand while others were skeptical and just wanted to look instead of touch.  I tried to comment on their clothes, showing them that my dress was just like theirs (even though many are bare-naked and shoeless), or tell them how beautiful they are, but the only thing that worked was smiling at them, tickling them, chasing them, laughing with them as they laughed at my white American awkwardness.  This was so telling for me in regards to the human experience and what connects us all as humans.  I will never forget the faces of those children – their sense of loss and longing – many without clothes and shoes – many dirty with runny noses and big hungry bellies playing tricks on them, bloated to capacity, empty yet huge.  The older school girls knew some English so they were excited to say and hear the small amount of words that they knew including “Hello”; “What’s your name”; “Are you married”: all of which I got a kick out of.  They invited me to their school and giggled when I tried to hug them good bye.  Sadly, I will not be able to go back to this particular village, but playing with the children and connecting with them on a universal language – feeling felt by one another – was an experience that I will never forget.  Though they carry stories of pain in their hearts, it does not take much effort to laugh and to connect.

After just five days here, I can say that I am forever invested in this community.  The people have welcomed me so graciously – offering food, hugs, smiles, a chicken (literally – I think we’ll eat it tomorrow!) and wonderful conversation – barely knowing me at all.  The isolation and separation that I sometimes feel in America is not present here, and that inspires me and lifts me up.  I know that I want these people to be a part of my life for as long as I am on this planet.  They have so much to teach me about what it means to be a community, a family unit, and a people who know what it means to survive, to live, to persevere.  These are people of a fervent faith who have learned what it truly means to trust in God.  Undoubtedly, the relationships that I have already made are mutual – for all that PHS and Three Holy Women have done, there is so much to learn from the beautiful people of Padibe, and I am certain that they have come into my life for a reason. 

So, more water checks and school visits to come this week and next.  Sorry this is so long and wordy.  The next posts will hopefully be more frequent and less flowery. Shawn and I send love to all those back home who love and support both of us as well as this community. 

Katherine prepares a wonderful meal for us in the village of Lokung.