My Friend Kenneth

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  Gulu, Uganda
Monday, July 21, 2008

 
My last Monday in Pope Paul VI and Gulu turned out well. The night before I dreamt what Monday might look like. Students would participate, delivery of instruction would be brilliant, and standing ovations abundant. That may have happened had it not been for James' early announcement that instead of class we would be conducting mid- terms. My immediate inquiry was "Have the students prepared?" He assured me that students never prepare for mid- terms, thus assuring they would not do "too well." Was that not the goal? Apparently too many students passing signified a poorly written test. Perhaps James would at least allow me to hold a brief review? Negative.
 
I made the best of the situation, electing instead to go into town to get some work done. Preoccupied with my frustration I was unable to find contentment. There could be only one cure to such pessimism: the Kope Café Loft. As you may or may not know, Kope Café already sported some of the best food in Gulu. This I already knew. What I didn't know was that Kope Café was also one of the greatest "escapes." The loft was not in plain sight. If it was, more customers would become privy to it, hence diminishing its appeal. Rather, it was tucked away in the corner of the café above a large window. To reach the loft you had to climb a ladder which blended into the background of the surrounding wall. Taking my backpack with me, I was happy just to have a place to relax and unwind. When I learned that there was electricity and a fan as well, I could barely contain myself. Why had I not found this place earlier! Amidst my new loft I placed headphones in my ears, started my computer, and with the fan blowing in my face, sank back into the soft pillows. It was ultimate bliss!
 
I was so comfortable I almost missed my meal. Below Amy Cordileone shouted my name. It wasn't until the third or fourth scream that I was awoken from my trance. Laughing she informed me that my meal was ready. Two hours had passed. I climbed down the camouflaged ladder and took a seat beside Catherine. In front of me sat brilliance on a plate. Perfectly cooked Chipote enveloped an assortment of eggs, peppers and avocado while beside this concoction were salty fries. Sipping my Fanta I drifted off to dining heaven.
 
Upon finishing the meal, I returned to the loft to gather my things. After setting my return appointment I searched for a boda to take me back to Pope Paul. The boda driver was the most interesting one thus far. His insight was accurate and telling. Zipping down the road he alluded to the hidden crisis in northern Uganda. It was only a few lost jobs away from "anarchy." The economy he insisted was long suffering with no sight of relief. The population was ever growing while the job market was ever diminishing. Handing him $1,500 schilling I knew this would never solve the problem. This would only buy him a meal and sustain him enough to do the same thing tomorrow. Poverty was a vicious cycle. In the United States, education promises and fulfills in lifting people out of despair. Here, education was only available to an elite few. Those who wished to attend University could do so only through government scholarships or rich relatives. In total, it left a majority of the population with only a secondary degree at best. And when the only guaranteed source of cash flow came from government jobs, you were almost guaranteed to continue in the poverty stricken life of your parents. Government jobs were only available to those possessing University Degrees.
 
It was with this cynicism that I entered Senior Two Green following lunch. James was nowhere to be found. Perfect. Against his wishes I would conduct a review of the geography material covered. I did not care if this caused contention. I wanted these students to succeed. Desperation and despair were already part of their daily routine. They needed hope, no matter how hopeless it turned out to be.
 
The review game went fairly well. Some groups got really into it. It was their first experience with jeopardy and inner- class competition for that matter. After forty five minutes a particular student shared a very poignant concern. With courage he rose to his feet to say the following: "Mr. Okello, we took the mid- term in Geography this morning with Mr. James." Gulp. Think fast. How could this be? We gave the midterm to Senior Two Green in the morning. We were scheduled to meet with Senior Two Red in the afternoon. Other students confirmed the earlier assertion. Finally, I put it together. When administering tests at Pope Paul, the teachers give the tests to all the classes at one time. This is to ensure that answers are not shared with other classes. Crap! I had just conducted a review for a test that had already been administered. Kill me now. The solution was to do what I know best- be flexible. I led the class in a question and answer session of the United States.
 
Nearly every student wanted to know if the United States had the same lack of opportunity found here. Was their poverty? Were there displacement camps? Were there those without homes? I responded affirmatively. Poor conditions exist everywhere I contended. The only difference: People in the United States do not know they are impoverished. Take away their credit cards and access to loans, and nearly every American was only one paycheck away from homelessness. The students enjoyed this realism. They were not alone in their downtrodden condition.
My pessimism never lasts long. I am soon reminded of the time I almost died. To merely have life was a step above where I at one time was.
 
This eternal optimism allowed me to shift the discussion into one of hope and possibility. I found a golden nugget in a pile of shit. I asked the students if there was anyone worse off than them. They were at first reluctant, but after some time were able to come up with several examples. Soon they were not the displaced orphans of a longstanding civil war, but rather the proud survivors. They were privileged. They had their life, health, shelter and most anomalous to the state of Uganda, they had education.
 
I left feeling proud and they left feeling dignified. I returned to Christ the King with a newfound optimism. After putting on my gym clothes I stretched and ran back to Pope Paul to meet with Kenneth. Kenneth sat under the Mango Tree outside of Senior Two Red. Rather than start our run immediately, I asked Kenneth to teach me something. Looking puzzled he responded: "Teach you what?" I explained. I wanted to learn from him. He wanted to attend University to become a teacher, so this seemed as appropriate a time as ever to start. I supplied him with two pieces of chalk as we entered Senior 2 Red. Taking a seat in the 2nd row, I was Kenneth's only student. He didn't seem to mind. He came to life in front of class. With merely a topic, two pieces of chalk and a board, Kenneth inspired me. I saw "supply and demand" in a whole new light. He was a natural. When his chalk broke, instead of looking helplessly for an additional supply, he continued, embellishing new methods. When he finished I stood up and applauded.
 
We could now embark upon our run assured that this would be an invaluable partnership. After five minutes we arrived upon the soccer game I had always longed for. We took opposite sides of the field. He represented Arsenal while I supported Manchester United. Our team was first to score. Receiving a long ball from the defense, I trapped the ball at my feet, beat the lone defender and scored a magnificent goal. The children on the side were ecstatic. Seeing a Munu score amidst a sea of Acholi happened once a lifetime. After 30 minutes and one more goal, Kenneth and I decided it was time to leave. This was acceptable to everyone but one particular Acholi, who followed us back to Kenneth's sleeping quarters. Forcefully, Kenneth insisted that he leave. He obliged. That is what I love about Kenneth. You can't help but listen to him. He was that AMAZING a leader.
 
Kenneth showed me his sleeping quarters. Fumbling through the dark he pointed out the beds and hard floor. He begrudged that this was the life awaiting him every night. There was generally no electricity or time to study. No matter how badly he wanted to attend University, there were clear obstacles holding him back. This was where I came in. I could help make his dreams become a reality through my sponsorship. I assured him I would come through for him and Geoffrey. That's when he provided me with the application I had earlier requested. Included in the application were a letter of intent, personal background, and documents proving his involvement in the earlier war. He was abducted for half a year, forced to carry weapons and water over long distances for the LRA.
 
Kenneth continues to amaze me. I cannot find a thing I do not like about him. He is a leader, supporter and best of all Friend.
 
 After addressing me as "Father Okello" we parted for the evening. I returned to Christ the King feeling nostalgic. This roller coaster of emotions was almost too much for me. I resolved to remain balanced when starting this trip. And now, here it was close to ending and I was a wreck. Finding a seat in an empty chair back at Christ the King, I switched on my IPOD and reflected on a month of experience that rivaled years worth of useless knowledge.

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