June 28, 2009 (continued...)

Earlier today we had a mini-language lesson at the Intern House where we learned words such as, apwoyo (pronounced aphoyo - meaning: hello or thank you) and, warwate (meaning: we shall meet again). After our lesson was complete we left for Fort Patiko. When we arrived we left the matatus (moo-tah-two’s) only to view surrealy beautiful scenery. Old stone buildings,  placed amidst towering boulders. Immediately we ran to the rocks and began to climb. We were flying high - but a brief tour and explanation regarding the history of Fort Patiko brought us back to earth. Fort Patiko was an Arab Slave trading fort - it was the place arab slave traders brought their abductees and deemed them fit, or unfit to be used as slaves. From there they were sent on an over 2,000 mile journey on foot up through Sudan and Egypt, all the way past the Red Sea and into Arab Nations. The stones we had just climbed on were used to behead and torture captured slaves. Standing there and thinking about the history was absolutely sobering. But then again, even as I begin to feel more and more comfortable with the town of Gulu, I remember that this place too has endured horrific atrocities - nearly 3 years ago night-commuters filled the streets. 

As we were walking around the fort we seemed to be a magnet for local children and when we climbed to the top of a nearby mountain they were right by our side helping us reach the top and guiding our way. The trek to the top was difficult, especially in sandals - but the view... When we reached the top... was spectacular. Never in my life have I seen such a beautiful sight. There were no roads, no developments - only mud huts, trees, and fields untouched by modern structure. It was breathtaking. After our long hike and rest on the top we made our way back to the fort. There, we had food waiting for our consumption - but the children we had hiked to the top with, and those who had remained at the fort awaiting our return, had none - they wanted ours and expected us to give them some because we were white western foreigners. But we could not give them anything - for, giving them food would only reinforce the stereotype that Westerners only travel to the continent of Africa to give handouts. In addition, handouts would only encourage dependency and in an area like this that has been beat down by 23 years of war, the people need more than handouts - they need empowerment. So, we ate our meal and when we were finished scraped the remaining food into the bush, out of the children’s view. But when we turned to leave the children scrambled to where we had dropped our scraps and gathered what they could. It was heart wrenching and extremely uncomfortable. While we were eating they were watching us so intently, hoping we would give in. Although we were ensured by our trip leaders that the children standing before us were not starving and simply looking for handouts, having young children sit there and stare at us really brought about the realization that we are incredibly lucky to have food.

Being in Uganda has really made me think about a lot of things and it’s really made me realize just how fake most of our happiness is. Back at home, in America, we lack culture, we lack community. We’re so caught up in ourselves that we miss the things that truly matter. I feel so at home here, the things I’ve always dreamt of - community, culture, optimism through strife - it’s here. Life is less fast paced, more relaxed - your life is dependent on the moment here and now, not the future or past. There aren’t the distractions of facebook, internet, cell phones. The simplicity of it all reveals the beauty. I’ve met some of the most incredible people, had some of the most riveting conversations. You walk down the street and you can feel the sense of community that ties everyone together and keeps life going. I love it. Today, after we left Fort Patiko, the clouds were coming in, the thunder rolling, and lightening flashing. We began to drive back to the Invisible Children Intern House and about 10 minutes into the drive it began to rain. First Alex Ammons opened her window and with no hesitation stuck her head out - her hair blowing in the wind collecting mass amounts of water. We all started laughing at how crazy she was being, but then we realized - we’re young, we’re fearless, we’re in northern Uganda, Africa, and it’s raining. It’s the first Ugandan rain we’ve ever experienced and the windows of our matatu happen to open wide enough that we can fit our head and shoulders comfortably out of. Heck, why wouldn’t we stick our heads out the window?! So we did it, I opened my window first, then Jedidiah Jenkins opened his, and in the back Grant Heskamp stuck his out too. We were racing down the road in a matatu in northern Uganda with our heads out the window - rain in our faces. We were bursting with joy, we felt free, we had not a care in the world. Our driver Sunday joined in on the fun and drove through any puddles he could. Red mud was splashing up and covering our arms and as we passed people walking down the street we screamed a loud and joyful, “APWOYO!” They would smile and wave back, our hearts would fill and we’d turn our faces back to the wind feeling something we’ve never felt before - sheer happiness. It was incredible. Words can’t describe how I felt. I felt fearless, adventurous, alive - so, so alive! It was then that I realized, happiness doesn’t come from anything material, it never has. Happiness comes from the moment - the raw emotion that’s felt when you don’t care about the future, you’ve forgotten or come to terms with the past and all you can think about is the here and the now. It’s is a lot more simple than most people make it out to be.

I keep thinking about how I might not be able to return to northern Uganda and it breaks my heart. I love it so much here - I feel so at home - I feel so complete. 

Tomorrow we’re visiting our partner schools! I can’t wait.