Gulu itself is actually a very nice town. The center of the town is only about 7 blocks in each direction, including a giant market. There isn't nearly as much food selection as Kampala, and everything is more expensive, but people don't really bargain here like in Kampala, which also makes for a nicer shopping experience.
Our house is... Interesting. Since I stayed in Kampala an extra week, I didn't really get a say in where the people who came up earlier decided we should live. To an extent, I'm dealing with a little culture shock again since I got so spoiled in the house that people staying in Kampala rented there. This house is under construction, and when it is done it will be very nice, but for now there is a reason why the owners are not living there and rented it to us for so cheap. I won't go into the details, but my current frustrations stem from a cockroach infestation that I have staged a one woman war against because nobody else in my house cares enough to spring for the $5 bottle of bug killing spray, and a construction worker infestation. As in, they showed up without warning at midnight last night and will be staying in the house as well through the weekend, waking us up early in the morning to work on the plumbing. But I digress...
On tuesday I went to have a meeting with a person at the organization where I will be doing my research. Everybody here gets around on bodabodas (motorcycle taxis) because there are no regular taxis (basically public minibuses), which I thought could be an issue because I am pretty much required to wear a skirt here and riding side saddle on bumpy roads is maybe not the best idea. I've kept my balance so far though. Anyways, my meeting turned out to be actually us going to her sister's house, socializing for 2 hours, eating a meal, and then talking for about 20 minutes about what I was interested in doing. I also met someone named Lily, who said that the custom here is that now I owe her a chicken.
Just a quick overview: My organization runs a 1.5 yearish long boarding school type program for child mothers (generally around age 18 and 19 but are as young as 15 and as old as 25). They continue their studies while also learning life skills, getting counseling, and getting help with childcare. I am not sure exactly about the numbers, but many of the 30 girls there are formerly abducted children and the father's of their children are rebel soldiers (that is what I'm doing research on). The school is on a small compound in rural Uganda about a 20 minute drive north of Gulu.
Yesterday I started my practicum, which is not so much a practicum as just research. I get the feeling that they're really used to having people here to do research. In the morning, they said that they had capacity for 2 new students, so they were going to do home visits to some girls who they thought might want to come to the school. Only one of the girls was home (nobody makes appointments here. You just show up). Her father was beaten and killed by LRA rebels for buying a bicycle (the LRA has a lot of really stupid rules) and so her family moved to an internally displaced persons (IDP) camp. She met a man there and got pregnant but as soon as he found out, he disappeared. Now the family is back home and she has a beautiful girl (3 years old maybe) who only has one eye. When we asked what happened, all she told us was that it was witchcraft. Oh, and they have HIV.
Then, in the afternoon they had dance and music for a few hours. Most of the songs are about God (from what I can guess. They are almost all in Acholi Luo, which is the local language here. Of course, just as I start to get a handle on Luganda, the language changes) but there was also one about my organization and how thankful the girls are for all that it has done for them. It was both nice and kinda creepy in a brainwashing way at the same time...
Today I got here just at the end of morning prayers. A new girl arrived last night (she was captured by the LRA in 1994 when she was 10 and escaped relatively recently) and when I went to greet her and shake her hand I realized there was a huge scar on it. Then I realized it was because she was missing a finger. I cannot even describe what a jolt of reality it was to me, and I had an incredibly difficult time hiding my shock. I started to look around at the girls, who generally seem very happy and healthy, and realized that many of them had scars that I hadn't noticed before. If the language barrier isn't bad enough, I'm going to have a really hard time connecting with these girls because I am just so intimidated by them.
My organization really has impressed me so far. The school seems like such a safe and open place for child mothers to find support. While it is pretty much impossible to ever forget to hardships that brought the girls here, it makes me so happy to see the mothers interact with their babies, each other, and each others' babies. More on this next week.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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