About four hours of speeding over speedbumps and swerving around (or into) potholes, our bus was stopped at a checkpoint where it was pulled over. After all of the jerrycans were suspiciously removed from the bus, we unloaded and waited in tall grass in the middle of nowhere. Then, the police pointed to a specific jerrycan and called his colleagues to gather around it. He took a knife in his hand (all of the passengers quickly stepped backwards) and stabbed the jerrycan. Milk started pouring out of the puncture and the police kept cutting until the jerrycan was split in two pieces and the grass was soaked with milk. The police huddled around the top half of the jerrycan and, thouroughly confused, I learned something new – trafficking milk from Kampala to Gulu is a serious offense. We waited in the grass for two hours trying gauge the situation until people started loading the bus again. Ten minutes later, while on the bus, everyone got up and started yelling in their local languages. Apparently, the police were arresting our driver. Then, they changed their minds and decided to arrest the conductor since he was in charge of what went on and off the bus. As soon as he realized what was going down, the conductor ran from the police and as he was chased down the road with AK-47s, our driver hopped on the bus and followed. When we caught up to the commotion, our bus was a chaotic mess – the police were beating the conductor and the passengers were screaming out the windows. It's difficult to retell this story in the way in which it was experienced... sitting in silence with no understanding of what was happening. Finally, the bus continued after the intense drama over, yes, spilled milk.
Well, we finally arrived and I had a very full day yesterday. In the morning I went to the Through Art Keep Smiling (TAKS) center to speak with the directors and plan a schedule with them. The center was incredible – they have 7 computers, 2 printers, a scanner, projectors, TVs with satellite, easels, a dark room with projectors and film developing equipment, and tons of other supplies. This isn't the usual stuff seen in Gulu. The weird thing about TAKS is that after 7 years of existence, it hasn't implemented any major programs. They host workshops and occasional weddings, but that's about it for now. The director has tons and tons and tons of ideas, but he hasn't put any of them into practice.. Each time he told me about a different idea for the center I tried to clarify, "so is the long term goal of TAKS ____?" And each time he would respond, "yes!" It was very confusing.
In the afternoon, I went to meeting that was held between One Mango Tree (OMT, an org that exports tailored Ugandan textiles – yoga bags, purses, wallets, etc – to the U.S.) and an indigenous organization called Gulu Women's Economic Development and Globalization (GWEDG, an org that focuses on gender-based violence in Gulu's surrounding IDP camps). The organizations have partnered to locate, train, and mobilize women living in IDP camps so they can work as tailors and OMT can export their goods. The founder of OMT was one of my trip leaders from when I was here last summer, so it's cool to see the evolution of the org.
I went back to TAKS in the late afternoon to try to get a better sense of it. There, I met a freelance photojournalist who's had work in publications like The New York Times and the U.S. News and World Report. He was one of the first journalists to cover the war in northern Uganda with a story on a woman who got her lips, ears, and nose cut off by the LRA, the rebel army. He's here now to do a follow-up on her story and he has an interesting take on the current culture in northern Uganda (the culture "over-doing it" on peace, development, NGOs and foreign aid). He's spoken with relatives of Joseph Kony (the leader of the LRA) and told me crazy stories. He also has a lot of suspicions on why the peace agreement wasn't signed this April. He said that the Ugandan government basically depends on its continuation. For example, during the height of the war, the government took advantage of the desperate situation and bought tons of land from individuals who were then forced into IDP camps. Now, they've developed the land to build structures that cater to aid workers and foreigners like me, who need spaghetti and a hot shower every once and awhile. Out of the several hotels in Gulu, there are only two that aren't government owned. Very interesting. He was also one of the first reporters in Darfur.. what a cool job! His next goal is to start art programs for vulnerable children.
Leaving Kampala was sad . It was hard to say goodbye to the women at Bead for Life and to all of the other people I've met there. I'm continuing to work with Meredith on the project in the slums and she incorporated some of my photos with the bios that she wrote about her students on her blog, meredithinuganda.vox.com. I also created a flickr account with some photos from Bead for Life and the slum - http://www.flickr.com/photos/28365765@N05/2648593709/in/set-72157606053749575/. Gulu is so different from Kampala. More rural, the atmosphere is Gulu is peaceful and quiet compared to the chaos of Kampala. It's also way hotter. And there are a handful of white people I keep seeing around who are
all super trendy.. pretty weird.Lucy with Mangoes
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