Last day in Gulu
Trip Start
Jun 22, 2008
1
32
36
Trip End
Jul 31, 2008
Gulu,
Uganda
Friday, July 25, 2008
That was the plan of course. But things never go as planned. I met Jamie at Boma restaurant at around 10 a.m. Here we enjoyed African tea over a dose of anecdotal stories. Jamie and I met for one simple purpose: Discuss the obstacles facing gay rights in Uganda. Museveni did not even believe gays existed. If they did, his solution was to send them off to an island in the middle of Lake Victoria to die off. This is the brick wall we stand against as gay males. It is simply not wise to be "out and proud" in Uganda. A girl from Ethiopia was not even "out" when her life transformed into a living hell. A married woman, she was caught in bed with another girl. Her family believed her to be possessed by the devil. The solution to this problem: Beat the devil out of her. She was soon tied to her bed, stripped naked, beaten, starved and dehydrated for FIVE STRAIGHT DAYS! On the fifth day she had only two options: Confess to being reformed or die. So in reality she had only one choice if she wanted to live. Admitting to her newfound heterosexuality she was now "cured." The community didn't see her as such. When walking down the streets, the community spat, threw rocks and mocked her endlessly. She was a true outcast. With no support from her family, she had to escape. Making a phone call to a family friend up north she explained that her family was having "financial trouble." The friend agreed to let her stay with them. Once here she needed money- FAST! She soon made friends with an autistic child who the community also believed to be demon possessed. The boy was not held, touched, loved or cared for for SEVEN years. Starved of affection, naturally, there were even more problems he manifested. Sharing a common experience, he bonded immediately with the Ethiopian Woman. She was paid quite modestly for her hard work with him. After seven years of savings, she finally had enough money to purchase a plane ticket to the United States. Landing in San Diego she found the Ethiopian slums. After knocking on EVERY door, she finally found someone to take her in. With only $100 in her pocket and speaking not a lick of English, she fought her way out of poverty and now owns a successful car dealership.
Here is where Jaime comes in. When telling her that he was going to Uganda she had two poignant pieces of advice: "Don't expect to do anything big" and "do not tell ANYONE you are gay, you can't trust anyone." After hearing this story I was speechless. I was overwhelmed with emotion. This Ethiopian woman was remarkable. 99.999% of people will never experience that kind of hardship. Poverty is devastating but bearable. Mental disorders are deteriorating but manageable through meds and therapy. Being rejected by EVERYBODY around you simply for being who you are is unbearable. Most would have taken their own lives early in the process. She not only overcame those obstacles, but has become a healthy, self- dignified woman. Jaime is also remarkable. He has come to Uganda knowing that he must repress an integral part of himself. He has done so willingly and without remorse. This to me was self- sacrifice on the greatest level. He has committed to something greater than himself.
With that said, I was overwhelmingly willing to accept his invitation to "meditate" before our pedicure. Whatever his practice, I wanted to emulate. Finding a shady spot under a tree, we closed our eyes and drifted to a place without thought or consciousness. After five minutes I had to open my eyes. To truly concentrate and focus I required visual stimulation. The slow moving clouds provided the perfect remedy. I matched my breathing with their passing. Smiling, I couldn't help but revel in my contentment. My life although chaotic and discombobulated was on the right track. Perhaps it was simply because it maintained this prophetic paradox Socrates spoke of ages ago. I admitted to knowing nothing, this fact alone allowed me to gain everything. And here was everything in front of me: Peace of mind. Stability is an internal state of mind. If I am unable to remove all external extractions and still be happy with who I am, I am not truly content.
This contentment allowed me to accept the fact that a pedicure would not happen today. The pedicurist was still in her meeting. The hour was fast approaching 2 p.m. I could not miss the "going away lunch" Pope Paul VI had planned for the American teachers. Catching a boda back to school my brain was scattered. Life was full of contradictions. There were times to be bold, and times to be reserved. Others to be self- sacrificing, and still more to be self- serving. The world was simply not black and white. The shades of grey were wonderful. This complexity made people different and beautiful. I resolved to be grey.
Back at Pope Paul VI the staff room was cleared and set for lunch. Ugandans had a particular way of celebrating. No event was too minor to celebrate. This was as glorious a time as any to have a feast. After filling the room, the headmaster kicked off the first round of speeches. Thanking the American and student- teachers for their contributions to the school, he explained that at times administrative behavior seemed "peculiar." Enlightened and insightful he attributed the behavior to the trauma "everyone in northern Uganda" experienced in the bush war. Everybody's eyes watered. He had captivated the room- touching on something that nobody else was able to define. My judgment of teacher's attitude and behavior in Gulu was finally remedied. I had no place to judge. Who was I to demand more from these teachers not having experienced the war, death, displacement, famine and fear each one was privy to? After two more speeches it was my turn. As "headmaster" of the American squad I was expected to be articulate and eloquent. I rose to my feet imagining what I would say. What could I say that had not already been said for? How do I follow such compelling words? I decided to focus on the "heroes" in the room. Here is how the speech went:
"When asked what I will tell people back home of teachers in Uganda, I will not tell them of the low pay, few resources and high class sizes- for these are circumstances outside of your control. But rather I will tell them of the way in which you reacted to such circumstances. I will tell them of the perseverance, dedication and commitment of every person sitting in this room. You are the true heroes."
The speech went on in this fashion. I hoped it would empower them to view teaching in terms of what they have done, rather than what they did not have.
I had way too much soda at the celebration. My stomach spoke multiple languages. It must have been odd for the rest of the teaching staff to hear such strange noises when distributing our African gifts. The gifts could not be more perfect. They were hand made African clocks with animals to signify major landmarks. The only ironic part was that they gave such gifts to us after acknowledging us for our astounding time management. I would have given the clocks back to the teachers if they were not so beautiful. Thanking them I stuck the clock into my backpack and removed my journal. I had every teacher sign the journal so that I might remember them and their contribution to my experience in Uganda.
I always save my tears. At the time of departure I am stoic. Perhaps it is a defense mechanism. Therefore I did not shed tears upon departing from Pope Paul VI. I knew they would come later. Back at Christ the King I changed clothes for a run with Sarah. Picking our favorite route, the event was completely nostalgic. We even had an Acholi join. His name was Charles from Pope Nalgi College. He was polite enough, asking several questions about America. After 10 minutes, he broke off and we continued the run back to Christ the King.
Once back I showered, ate some dinner and prepared for my last night out in town. Allison flaked out on us. She was feeling "under the weather." While Sarah and I had some initial problems catching a boda, we finally found one in Wendy's friend Patrick. Patrick was the boda driver called upon most by the IC organization. Therefore, we put our trust in him when leaving at 9 p.m. Our ride to KSP was safe and pleasant. Our ride back was another story...
So after our two beers and Non at KSP, Patrick came to pick us up. We invited him to have a beer with us....DUMB MOVE! This would be stupid given any driver's prior drink intake, however when supplying beer to a driver who was already drunk, you were asking for trouble. Patrick could barely find the door. Sarah and I questioned our decision. We were in a Catch 22 situation. We could take the boda ride with Patrick and risk an accident, or we could walk and risk being robbed. We chose the former.
Our first accident was minor enough. The boda simply fell over at a low speed with us catching ourselves before hitting the ground. The second accident was a little more severe. Swerving from one side of the road to the other, the boda driver lost control of his vehicle. This sent Sarah and I into the hard panned dirt road. Fortunately we fell hands first. Getting up immediately, we grabbed hands and started running away. Why we ran I still do not know? We must have looked like we were being chased (although there was no one around). I have never seen more than one boda driver past midnight. The roads were dark and desolate. We were now sitting ducks for thievery. That's when our savior came. He came with flashing lights and a 6 speed engine. It was a boda driver. We did not care to know his real name, to us he was "Jesus." Having not "taken" any Niles that night, he was the perfect candidate to deliver us to CTK in one piece.
I have done many stupid things in my life. These included daredevil climbs, life threatening jumps and outrageously high speeds. Tonight tops them all. I am lucky to be alive.
