Dateline: 8:48 P.M. Gulu time. That’s 11:48 A.M. CST for those of you keeping score at home.
REFLECTIONS ON GULU
I had the opportunity today to walk around this “vibrant” city and see it firsthand. To witness the activity of daily life here with my own eyes. To experience its movement, its rhythm, its pace. To see the faces and look into the eyes of the people I have waited many months to be connected to. These are the things I noticed:
- First and foremost, I saw a boy (probably about 8 or 9 years old) wearing a Texas Aggies windbreaker! It was dirty and hardly could be called “maroon” any more, but there it was, plain as day, emblazoned on the back: “Texas Aggies.” I so wanted to take his picture. And for the record, not a single stitch of Longhorns attire to be seen anywhere. The Spirit of Aggieland lives in Africa.
- Gulu is – on the surface, at least – “busy.” there is activity going on all the time with people milling about and walking from place to place. There are no sidewalks, so the streets are crowded with pedestrians, bicyclists, boda-bodas, and vehicles (mostly large trucks and passenger vans…most people don’t have means to own cars. And why would you want to with the condition of these “roads?”) . But as I looked around me, I noticed a hollowness, an emptiness to their lives. It almost seems as if they’re trying to look busy or act busy for the sake of something to do.
- Survival here is a full-time job. From the moment people wake up to the time they go to bed late at night, their daily routine revolves around surviving. Meals take hours to cook over charcoal fires that line the streets. Shopping involves hopscotching from one shop to another, always negotiating for the best deal, never accepting anything at face value. Nothing is simple, yet their lives are far less complicated than ours in the States. Nothing is easy, yet the hardships are accepted without complaint. There seems to be a predicable routine to life here. The pace is comfortable to them. It’s an ebb and flow that makes sense to them and their way of life. Survival may be much more difficult here, but they find a way to make it work.
- There were lots of children out and about all day long. We saw some girls and boys – mostly teenagers or young tweens – in uniforms as if going to school. But there was a much larger presence of children who were NOT in school – many appearing to be of school age – who were either left to loiter at the family business or were working themselves. All day long we passed unattended children out walking the streets, whether on the roads to the villages or around the bustling center of town. Some of these children were obviously preschoolers, with no older siblings or parents around to watch over them.
- The people are friendly and warm, as I was told they would be. They are very curious about Americans and our technology, especially our cameras! Many Africans have cell phones, but our digital cameras seem to fascinate them. Whenever we drive along the streets, people wave and greet us and children run alongside the van yelling “Hi!! Hi!!” We stand out – for obvious reasons – despite our efforts to “blend in.”
- Gulu is dirty – trash piles of rotting food and waste line the streets. You can look down an alley and see it filled 3 feet deep with garbage of all kinds. There are no trash cans visible anywhere and recycling is non-existent. People throw their trash down wherever they happen to be standing, regardless of the environmental impact. The roads are semi-paved throughout the center of town, but are nothing more than hard-packed dirt once you reach the outskirts or turn off a main road. They are filled with potholes and deep ruts that make driving a slow, tedious process. However, it’s neater than I expected, with evidences of western influence in clothing and economy. The hotel is comfortable, if sparsely decorated, with warm and friendly service that would put most Americans to shame.
And now, since a picture is worth a thousand words, I give you the “vibrant” city of Gulu.
