This is now the third time I have tried to write this entry. So we will see if I ever actually get around to finishing it...
Last week was the Genocide Memorial week. On the advice of many of my colleagues, I decided to take leave that week and go up to Uganda, not because it is dangerous or anything, just that it is a very sad, very intense time for a lot of people and a lot of people would themselves like to leave. So my friend Leigh and I went up to Lake Bunyoni in southern Uganda for a couple days. We stayed on an island in the middle of the lake in a place without electricity, running water, internet, and cell phone reception and I LOVED IT. It is so easy to get caught up in the sense of immediacy and importance that we have developed as a result of telecommunications. But when you can get away from it, really get away from it, you realize that actually you dont matter all that much and it is ok to take a break. Life will go on without being able to get in immediate and contact. So it was so relaxing to just break off contact with everyone and go hiking around the island, go canoeing (although we kept going in circles which started make me a little sick after a while) and eat a lot of delicious food.
We were there from Saturday until Tuesday morning. On Tuesday I hopped a bus to Kampala, which was one of the more frustrating bus trips of my time here. The driver told us we were leaving "now, now" when we bought our tickets (stupid stupid stupid. I should know better by now) and we ended up sitting in the bus for two hours waiting for it to fill up. Of course the driver left it running the whole time even though there was no heater or air conditioner, flooding the bus with exhaust and inducing an awesome asthmatic cough that I have yet to get rid of, a week later. The driver then proceeded to treat the bus trip as his own personal shopping expedition, stopping at various fruit vendors along the way, judging produce and haggling prices for up to half an hour each time. My favorite may have been when he sent a boy scurrying back and forth between the bus and his fruit stand four or five times to bring different assortments of oranges to him. Ugh...
Anyway after about ten hours (it should only take six) we got into Kampala and I made it to a hostel. Stayed in Kampala for a day and a half but its pretty mundane for most people. I watched two movies back to back and ate thai food. Standard I think for most people but VERY exciting for me. And I had a series of late night conversations with random other expats coming through the hostel about the various state of affairs in the world, economy, gay marriage, stem cell research, the nature of good and evil, legalization of drugs, climate change... I mean you know, those standard light-hearted conversations you normally have with strangers.
On Wednesday night I met up with my friend Lacey, who I lived with in Gulu almost two years ago, and this was really when the trip got going. First, because it was really nice to see an old friend and share our experiences about living and working abroad and second, because Gulu was in a time of rapid change when we were there two years ago and we were both very curious to see what has happened. So bright and early Thursday morning we got a bus to Gulu.
The most amazing part of the trip to Uganda was revisiting Gulu. After two years away, I really had no idea what to expect. Although the peace talks have continued, and there has not been much, if any, reported rebel action in the area, the increasing activity in DR Congo was reason to worry. I thought that perhaps the resettlement process, wherein people were returning home, had been disrupted and that people would still be living in the camps. But as we grew closer to Gulu, there were definite indications otherwise. Many of the camps that had crowded the road the previous year have been abandoned and the store fronts that were previously dirty and crumbling were newly painted. Bars had pool tables and semi-permanent attachments built on to allow for people to linger and enjoy themselves. Sure maybe in a society with rampant alcoholism, encouraging more drinking isn’t the best idea. But, in a place where people have not had any real form of recreation or entertainment in twenty years, the pool tables are a great sign.
Even Gulu itself has changed, although not with signs as significant as abandoned camps. Rather, there are more banks, three or four stories high, and the boundaries of the town have expanded. Rapidly. Perhaps most encouraging, and certainly for Lacey and I, most comforting (quite literally), is the improvements in the roads. Two years ago, the roads were practically impassable. Even in a 4x4 LandCruiser, we would be tossed around in the car like dolls. Some smaller cars would not even take us to For God (where the center is) because they would bottom out their cars too often. This time however, the roads were much improved. Almost completely level with very few potholes or divots. Although that might seem like a relatively insignificant improvement, it actually means quite a bit. The road from Gulu continues to southern Sudan, to Juba. It is the main means of keeping communication and trade open between two very poor regions of the world. Goods can be more easily transported to an area in need of food and basic commodities and people can travel more safely between regions. The poor condition of the roads two years ago was viewed by many people as a physical manifestation of the poor regard that the Ugandan government had of both northern Uganda and southern Sudan. The improvement in the roads can then be regarded as an indication that the government is increasingly interested in improving the lives of northern Ugandans and improving relations with southern Sudan (it also probably has something to do with presidential elections next year. In the traditional anti-Musevini north, it would do him well to woo voters). Whatever the reasons for improvement, there is no doubt that things are getting better and to be able to witness it was extremely uplifting.
