21 Months Later: A Reflection
When I stepped from the plane, down the metal stairs and onto the tarmac at Uganda’s only international airport, it was supposed to be for six months, just a short gap that needed to be filled for the Bracelet Campaign. I distinctly remember taking my first breath of Ugandan air – thick, warm, smelling more than a little of fuel – and marveling at a wall of lively tropical clouds on the horizon. I thought to myself, ‘This is going to be six months you’ll never forget.’
As it turns out it was going to be a bit more than that. I ended up running the Bracelet Campaign for over a year and half. Now, almost exactly 21 months after I took that first Ugandan breath I will take my last (for now) and get back on a plane to the United States, to Southern California. I would say that I’m going home but these days I’m not sure quite where that is.
I’ve called Gulu home for almost two years: Gulu, a town in a remote region of a small East African country, where only this summer the sandwich made its first commercial appearance; where children used to hide in the night for fear of being abducted from their village homes; where a short drive in any direction brings you to a camp in which people are dying, not from bullets and machetes, but from a simple lack of the necessities of life – food and water, maybe the occasional pill.
How can Gulu’s quiet suffering be home one day and San Diego’s mythic beaches home the next? How can I go from rutted red dirt roads bordered by empty, endless savannah to six lane freeways flanked by the mazes of suburbia? Or from a place where malnourishment contributes to thousands of deaths every month to a land where billions of dollars are spent trying to burn off all the extra food that’s eaten?
How can the world hold two such disparate places and expect each to be called ‘home’?
I suppose I’ll learn those answers soon enough, or whether there are answers. For now I’m grateful that Uganda has been my home for a time. She’s been an excellent hostess, and perhaps an even better teacher. If there’s one thing that I learned here that I know will affect the rest of my life it’s this:
A Ugandan can do more for Uganda than I ever will.
She will have an understanding of her community that goes far deeper than that of even the most sympathetic American – because they are her family, her friends, her neighbors; she knows them in the context of their histories, their characters, their late night conversations. And she will have insights into their needs, their hopes and their plans that no number of questionnaires and focus groups can produce.
And since it’s home, she is likely committed to Uganda for life. We westerners tend to be more fickle.
This doesn’t mean that we can’t do anything, but it does have a lot of implications for what we ought to do. It is, for instance, why Invisible Children invests deeply in a limited number of war-affected individuals, rather than spreading our resources across the vast needy population of northern Uganda, or why we are investing in a new generation of leaders by helping children from northern Uganda return to school and get the education they need to change their country. And it is also why our ratio of Ugandan staff to Western staff in the Gulu office has skyrocketed in the last 2 years – now something like 10 to 1. Not to say that we’ve got it all right at this point, but I know we’re on the right track.
Knowing how much Ugandans can do for each other has led me to wonder why more isn’t done. What I’ve found is that Uganda is deeply divided. The lines drawn by colonial governors have been the front lines of bloody conflicts for decades. Those from one end of the country might not care very much about the safety and success of their compatriots on the other end. So northern Uganda languishes for 21 years while other parts of Uganda are held up as models of peace and development.
Those historical and political divisions have been greatest impediments to Ugandans pulling the north of their country out of this mess. What can we do to help Uganda overcome its divides?
As I travel back to America I wonder: What should Americans be doing for other Americans, and what arbitrary divisions are keeping us from doing it? I think it’s probably hard to serve people on the far side of the world well, before we learn to serve the ones next door.
As I (finally) leave Uganda, I have to thank all of you who have supported IC. You’ve made it possible for amazing work to be done here in Gulu and I’ve had the privilege of being your hands for some of it. What we’ve all accomplished together so far is huge and groundbreaking. Keep caring, keep working, keep changing things.
–James Pearson, ICBC Program Coordinator
How do you transition back to life in America? It’s hard, all I can say is that you will definitely never look at things here in America the same again. I hated America after I got back from Uganda. Before leaving Uganda I couldn’t imagine living in America again. I remember being at “Da Pub” (which you will most definitely miss) in Gulu and seeing a music video on that TV and looking at all the glamour and make-up on the girls and remembering that that’s what girls look like in America, I had completely forgotten (actually you were probably there that night, it was the night before Karl left Gulu). I remember sitting in the IC intern house and looking at a magazine and reading an article about how this girl had 63 shirts but not the PERFECT one in grey. I almost threw up. Living in Uganda made me forget how Americans live, and I loved it. Although you may be so over the squatty-potties, the lack of power, and 800 shillings it takes just to buy an apple, you will definitely miss Uganda as a whole. There’s nothing quite like walking around Gulu at night and not seeing hundreds of children sleeping under the verandas anymore. Or going to Gulu High, looking at the old girls’ dorm and then at the new one being built. I miss the people there, the smiley faces of the children I miss the GORGEOUS sky that is unique to Gulu. I miss the fact that for 500 shillings, you can get almost everywhere by boda-boda. I even miss “MZUNGO HOW ARE YOUUU?!” being shouted at me everywhere I went. You will miss the children at St.Judes, the ladies who make the bracelets, and the children at the IDP camps. Even though I was born and raised in America, I felt like I was coming back to a country that was foreign to me. It was so much easier adjusting to the life in Uganda than it was readjusting to life in the States. Heck, it was even hard adjusting to life in Kampala again. But whether it’s a good thing or not – eventually you will get used to life in America. Just don’t get too used to it…
Never forget all the times you had in Gulu. Although we in the States might not have top up sauce, matokay, people that point to things with their lips and reply to you by raising their eyebrows, or people having a full conversation using various tones of voice and lengths of saying “ehh”, we do have the people who are supporting IC and some that really do care about the situation there.
I agree with you that the Westerners will never be able to match the Ugandans when it comes to helping out Uganda long term, but thank you so much for the work you did for the past 21 months. You changed Gulu for the better for sure, job well done. :)
It is amazing that you went to Uganda for 6 months and ended up staying for almost 2 years. I’ve accepted an internship in Uganda working with Foundation for Sustainable Development. I actually chose Uganda because of my experience volunteering with Invisible Children. Your organization inspired me so deeply that I have completely altered my major and given my life a new passion and purpose. It is my hope that after my 6 month internship, I will find a position within Invisible Children in Gulu.
I am currently taking a course in intercultural communications; a chapter explains the culture shock one feels when both entering into a new culture as well as when returning home. I didn’t really understand how an American would find difficulty in coming “home”, but I see now how strange this may be. I certainly wish you the best of luck in readjusting to life here in the States. Thank you so much for all you’ve done in Gulu, you’re an inspiration :)
“I think it’s probably hard to serve people on the far side of the world well, before we learn to serve the ones next door.”
As it turns out, maybe Jesus knew what he was talking about when he said in Acts 1:8 that we should “be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Jerusalem was home. After they reached their home, they were to spread, and reach Judea and Samaria, places that were still relatively close, but there were barriers to over come. They had to learn the people, overcome preconceived ideas about them, etc. Finally, they were to go out ot the ends of the earth. We recently did a study on this, and I think the progression was meant to both prepare the person in a progressive way, as well as to use people and resources most efficiently, by reaching people in a specific area, and letting them travel outwards using this same pattern.
“I’m grateful that Uganda has been my home for a time. She’s been an excellent hostess, and perhaps an even better teacher.” Wait until you find out all the lesson’s America will teach you…both for the good and the bad. After spending 6 weeks in Gulu last summer, I stepped on the plane and I thought I had learned everything already. I was ready to share the stories with anyone who would listen. What I didn’t know was that America was just waiting to teach me many more things.
Thanks for your work with the Bracelet Program, and for continuing to share the many stories with the world through this and other blogs.
Thank you for all you’ve done for IC and the people of Uganda. And now that I think of it… thank you for everything you do for the people in the United States. You inspire us by your giving heart and your wonderful spirit. I hope that I can step out of my comfort zone and give in the ways that you have given your heart and your time. May God truly bless you!
Blessings,
Tara Renae
A beautiful reflection, James. Thanks for sharing it with us.
Finally, they were to go out ot the ends of the earth. We recently did a study on this, and I think the progression was meant to both prepare the person in a progressive way, as well as to use people and resources most efficiently, by reaching people in a specific area, and letting them travel outwards using this same pattern.