Heaviness and Healing

Acholiland,
what mingling of beauty and sadness:
where broken bonds and deep pain are slow to heal,
a culture of violence shows its bitter face,
‘traditional’ structures and values are eroding
amidst Mzungos aplenty.

Ah mzungos and their culture of international humanitarianism,
relentless in their myriad research agendas.
Developers, building ‘capacities’, schools, boreholes,
a theme park of exotic reintegrated child soldiers
and a market for clubbing, Ethiopian food and handicrafts.

And yet people are smiling,
cassava is growing
a rhythm returning
healing, remembering…
seeds of peace?

quotes for pondering...

Writing a paper right now on the roles, ethics and impacts of development and humanitarian programming in conflict zones with a case study on Uganda. A recent trip there really challenged me to re-evaluate thoughts on external (Western) intervention... seeing the erosion of local capacities and the power politics first-hand. More on this soon but in the meantime here's a quote I'm using in my paper and that has been central in my thoughts lately:

"How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such a paradox. One must live in the middle of contraditction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light." Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams

at the source of the nile - three weeks in Uganda

Here is what I will remember:

In the north:

generous spirits of welcome and friendship;

a different rhythm of life

(early energy in the morning,

days full of walking, talking, eating, feeling, exploring, thinking, being…

and then satisfied sleep);

seeing-smelling-feeling the warmth of sunshine, the freshness of a hard rain, the growing of termite mounds and fragrance of flowers.

Oh, the connections with land, heart, community.

On the road to Kampala:

a bumpy bus ride with amiable companions, holding a sleeping child,

swaying to pot-holes and upbeat music;

the gift of a young mother’s openness, sharing hopes and fears about the future, smart strategies for protection and a glimpse into the suffering of her family;

the market visiting us through the high windows at every stop

(chickens joining the company, roasted cassava, salty groundnuts, street meat and cola filling bellies).

Oh the warmth of travellers on a shared journey.

In the heart of the city:

faster rhythms of the market (filled with fresh fruit, fabric and fish);

the cacophony of matatus, boda bodas and people honking, swerving, bustling;

a call to prayer from Gaddafi Mosque,

the jubilation of choir girls as they prepared for Easter Sunday;

connections with a dear couple whose love for each other and humanity radiates peace and integrity.

Oh the beauty of journeys overlapping and beckoning.

Three weeks feels both short and long for this journey,

for exposure to such intense beauty and pain.

I leave this rich red earth with much love and gratitude in my heart, and a prayer for healing across this land.