war DANCE

gulu is in northern uganda, and is the receiving area for many displaced by the war that continues not so far away. in our time there, i met no one that was actually from gulu. things seemed temporary, as evidenced by NGOs stationed on every block. and yet, there is a permanence about things that weighs heavily on hope. at this time of year, it is sweltering hot, dusty, and the air is stagnant. it could have been my mind running with stories of unimaginable horror, but the town felt volatile. the long term effects of trauma were apparent in those we passed by. physical scars were hard to look at. vacant eyes and detached souls seemed everywhere. it was as though we walked among shells of the people that once were. many times i felt afraid, and i'm still not exactly sure i know what i was afraid of.

i wanted to love all of africa. i wanted to soak in the culture, feel my heart bursting, and struggle to go home. instead, i struggled to sit in the reality that is unfolding in so many places across this huge continent. i felt helpless in even being able to conceive of something that could make any sort of difference. and maybe that was the hardest part ... the realization that i can't do much to help. in fact, many of us with the best intentions, have actually made things worse.

we spent our days interviewing children. we were trying to collect information about their stories to help get them sponsorship through a newly formed organization in seattle. each told a story that one would scarcely encounter in the western world. all had lost at least one, if not both, parents at the hands of the LRA or AIDS. some had been child soldiers. some were the heads of their tiny families. all bore responsibility that should be reserved for adults. i wondered how humanness survives in the midst of such atrocity. i couldn't imagine living a story like theirs, and not being unique.

their tears broke me, and their sweet smiles lifted me. at night, they showed us their traditional tribal dances around the campfire. their eyes were alive ... their laughter carefree ... and for a moment, we were given a glimpse of the people before us ... the acholi ... and with it, the vast realization of all that has been lost in the killing fields.

blessed to be a witness

leaving luwero felt a little like the let down at the end of summer camp. we had grown accustomed to our dirty feet, and had gotten used to the not always tiny friends that graced our presence ... lizards, weird bugs, and a little albino frog that would not leave our toilet. after exhausting him in our attempts to throw him out (and by 'our' i mean jason), we named him herbie hancock, and in the end, it was i that was sad to leave him. in very little time, our relationships with the staff had grown. their dreams were beginning to shape ours. we felt so humbled to be the recipients of their hospitality.

chad met maggie at a conference in seattle a few years ago. her personal story and the work she is now doing in africa inspired both of us, and we've stayed connected with the hope of visiting someday.

a little background on uganda:

- of the 30 least developed nations, 25 are in africa

- uganda's birthrate is the 2nd highest in the world

- 50% of the population is under the age of 15, with more than 2 million orphans

- the life expectancy is 42 years old

- 390,000 job seekers will fight for the 8,000 jobs available each year

with these statistics, it is easy to understand why it would be hard to dream. most children in this area have lost at least one of their parents. mothers try for multiple children, knowing that, if they're fortunate, only 50% will survive. hope tends to be near sighted, and promises have looming expiration dates. creativity and inspiration are boxed with the pressure of the realistic now. time is an uncommon luxury ... and no one believes that they will grow old.

maggie grew up as a slave in child pornography and prostitution. her parents were her captors. she knows what it is to be stripped of hope for anything different. she also knows what it is to defy the odds. confronting some of her greatest fears, and committed to finishing her own story with a beautiful ending, maggie founded AHI (african hospitality institute). AHI transforms the lives of at-risk youth through training them in hospitality. with the ever growing tourism industry in uganda, the demand for trustworthy and trained workers is growing, but these individuals are hard to find. until now.

we knew the staff at AHI was good. we felt continuously spoiled, but we wondered how much of our satisfaction came from the fact that we loved them as people. i.e., maybe it wasn't the fact that whatever i thought about was in my hand at the dinner table before i asked. maybe it was that it was delivered by sylvia and the radiantly sarcastic smile that said she could read my mind.

later, as we would travel around africa, we found ourselves commenting at nearly every restaurant or hotel, that every AHI staff member could not only excel in working in said organization, but running it.

we missed it. we missed them.

during the days, we played and fell in love with the little faces of the children in the villages surrounding AHI. even in our interactions with families who had very little, i was aware of the hope that permeated ... the light that shone. i ached when we left. not because i was abandoning them in their condition, but because i wanted more of what they had given me. just in witnessing ... i am ever blessed.

the gift of color

luwero is at the very center of uganda. the luwero triangle is the place that obote's army lined the streets with innocent civilians and executed them in an attempt to retain his position of power. the war with AIDS took the next generation. here, grandparents whose eyes can hold no more, struggle to raise children who have never known peace.

i spent my birthday in the villages here surrounded with tiny dirt covered feet ... little hands curious about my white skin ... shining eyes yellowed with disease ... swollen bellies that hint at the challenges that mount against basic need.

i expected to feel the weight of the pain that permeates this people. instead, i found laughter ... big toothy grins, playful squeals, abundant hugs ... inexplicable jOy.

at church, i found people separated by fierce tribal lines coming together to pray. i watched a community care for its children so well, that i could never match child to mother.

they say, "you are welcome," as they clasp our hands in theirs, and i'm intoxicated by their warmth.

there is heat, there is struggle ... there is depth, and there is wisdom. there is joy, and unmatched richness. there is strength, and there is hOpe.

it's hard to put words around such paradox, except to say, we are falling in love with uganda. and we notice we are not so much shooting photos in black and white.