Christmas Time in Gulu

True, not your typical Christmas party like those at home.

This kind of party lasts all day--morning until the sun sets.

Things begin at "8:00 am sharp". I am starting to catch on and so I show up at 9:30. There are a few people around and one of the tents is halfway up.

I walk with Timothy's wife and daughter to visit an aunt. We stay there for an hour. I noticed a scar in the back of this elderly lady's head. She was attacked once by the LRA in her home, cut with a machete. They set her hut on fire and left her to die, but she escaped. I don't catch any of this when we are with her because they speak in Luo of which I still don't know much, but Joska tells me later on.

We return around 11:00 and things are beginning. We cover quite a bit in this Christmas celebration. We celebrate the purchase of the land, the launch of the Heifer program, the opening of the clinic, and the microfinance program. The ladies are displaying their beautiful handcrafts, the kids are dancing their traditional dances and I wish each one of you could be here to experience it because I can't do justice in words or pictures (although I tried, and have hundreds of pictures to share with you some time.) I was tired because I had been sick the previous two days but I couldn't sit and rest, there was too much to be taking in.

Oh, and besides all of these highlights, you also missed a few other things. We were planting a number of trees around the land in celebration of the purchase. I was speaking with my director while the speeches were continuing by the head of different organizations/churches in the area. Suddenly I heard my name. Indeed, it was my turn to plant a tree and make a speech. I was not told of this, of course. But I did my best to fit into this high context culture and tried to come up with a speech. I was also given a new name at this time--Ayee Rwot Akello. You can call me Akello for short (because that's probably the easiest for you to pronounce.)

I'm sure the entertainment for most of you would've continued as you would've watched about 40 kids surround me, wrap one of the traditional cloths around my waist and tried to teach me some of the traditional dances. (I'm still working on them.)

At one point, some small Christmas gifts appeared from somewhere for all of the kids. As they received them, a few of them would come to me and ask what they were for. How do you explain a slinky when there are no steps around? I pulled one smaller brick in front of a larger one and tried to explain it. I think my explanation failed but they smiled politely. A few girls came to me with a jar of playdough and asked what it was for, then a group of boys approached me and asked how to put this small airplane together. Some of the pieces were already broken but we made it work.

I'm glad we had a Christmas party because it doesn't seem like Christmas very much at all as the sun is still scorching me in the hot mid-day sun. I do, however, wake up to a number of Christmas songs most mornings coming from some unknown source in town. Yesterday it was Feliz Navidad. But the Christmas party reminded me of the Savior and the people He came for. I was reminded of our need for this Prince of Peace in each one of our lives, whether we've lived in a war zone or not--our need for Him is still the same.

Look, I'm using my education . . .

I’ve recently been revisiting some of my books on development theory as well as the journals I wrote for my capstone class.

I met a guy who works with the Mennonite Central Committee in Gulu the other day, specifically the Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative. Speaking with him reminded me of how much I resonated with the Mennonite approach among the theories we studied.

The journal I found regarding the MCC challenged me to examine the way I’m thinking and living and see if it lines up to what I say I believe.

How Jesus Might Do Development
The MCC Approach

Starting with such a title feeds right into what my friends have been mocking me about lately. They think I’m on the Mennonite train because it’s a trendy one. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is just a passing phase because they DO embody some things which are trendy to talk about but harder to live—social justice, peacemaking, living simply.
Regardless of my own commitment to living the Mennonite way, I really do think they’re on to something. I think their focus on Jesus’ life instead of just focusing on his death and resurrection (which it seems like many of us protestants/evangelicals might be guilty of at times) makes a noticeable difference in their ideas about and practices of development. Maybe it’s a stretch to say that Jesus would work for the Mennonite Central Committee if he had to make the choice, but I think there are some pretty clear marks that their way embodies much of the way he lived.
I wrote “freeing” in the column next to the paragraph that talked about how MCC doesn’t accept funding from USAID and that it “is not driven by timeframes or results, believing in the importance of intangible results that cannot be measured in quantifiable terms.” I’m not sure if the MCC always lives up to it but I’m convinced that as far as large development organizations go, they are probably a step ahead of the rest concerning qualitative results instead of quantitative. Although this is a flawed analogy, I would compare this particular philosophy quite easily to Jesus’ life. It’s commonly believed that Jesus’ actual ministry started when he was about 30 and lasted for about 1-3 years. (Sounds quite similar to an MCC field assignment J ). Surely Jesus came into contact with a lot of people during his few years of ministry, yet he kept a few close friends and invested much of his time and energy into a group of disciples who often didn’t really understand him or what he was saying.
This might be another stretch, but I think the Mennonite’s way of finding answers and solutions within the home culture and tradition is similar to the radical words of Jesus when he said that the Kingdom of God is not here nor there, but the Kingdom of God is within you. Whether it be development solutions or Church growth strategy, it is easy to see our human tendency for looking for an outside solution or the next greatest thing that has hit the bookshelves. There is a similarity in their search for within the person or within the group of people that speaks to the search for Shalom.
Without falling into a dangerous picture of development workers being the saviors of communities, I think MCC’s servanthood approach and minimizing of power differentials reflects Christ’s way. Again, the analogy is flawed because Jesus really was the Savior and actually did have power and authority because of his identity. Yet, Western born Mennonites really are born into a place of privilege and opportunity. They could easily follow the way of other development organizations and set their own budgets, drive their SUV’s, build a compound equipped with tennis courts and golf carts to drive to other expat houses (this is not an exaggeration, by the way). Instead, they emphasize a small stipend so as not to be set apart from the people they live with. In my class on Christology, we have discussed what the incarnation actually means. Not only did Christ not have to be born into a low income family instead of royalty, the fact that he even entered into this world is an emptying out of his power and privilege.
Although all of my analogies are flawed, if we were looking for the best development model according to Christ’s way, I feel like I could hold my own in defending the MCC.

Although I’m not living in a large compound or driving around an SUV, these words I wrote inside a classroom in Michigan last year still act as a mirror for me right now; I am looking at my reflection and realizing that what exists at the core of why I live the way I do is evident to those around me. And I wonder what those around me see . . .

Is it a love for God that drives me and is expressed by loving those around me? Or is it a desire to be successful, to be known, to be recognized that drives me . . . We think these motives are hidden well as we carry out our various activities but they, in fact, are very evident to those around us, and very evident to God.

Saturday (This is a really long one.)

“Our man has not yet come to sign this peace agreement,” Timothy said after getting off of the phone.
“Too bad we’re not more surprised,” I said.
“Yes, it’s not a big surprise.”

Joseph Kony has once again failed to sign the final peace agreement. And people here simply hope and pray he never comes back to Northern Uganda. They slowly continue to move out of the IDP camps, open up land, marry, raise children, and return to some sort of normalcy that they are long unfamiliar with.

And this is where we are tonight—watching a marriage begin.

Timothy was kind enough to offer me a ride back to Gulu on Saturday and I was very grateful. It meant getting a free ride that is fairly safe, smooth, and always very interesting. Timothy owns the place where I’m living in Gulu, he is the founder of Uganda Christian Business Partners, owner of a few companies, and seems to model business in its most redemptive state. He has encouraged so many around him to start businesses in order to care for themselves and their community.

Perhaps he gets this caring spirit from his mother.
After our long trip from Kampala and discussions about education systems, farmers markets, successful business practices, and life before the war, Timothy asked what my plans were upon returning to Gulu and I said I had none. He invited me to come along to his wife’s compound where a wedding was taking place.

We reached home and I quickly changed my clothes and we set off—but first we had to stop at his mother’s place. Timothy talked about how much he misses village life and what it was like before the war.

“The elders were so respected. I remember my grandfather moving through our compound, settling arguments and keeping order. Everyone respected the elders. But the war has changed that, these young people no longer even respect their elders.”

We reached his mother’s small beautiful compound. I wish I could’ve taken multiple photos of Timothy and his mother talking as well as their beautiful compound to share it with you but I knew then that I would have to describe this experience in words. It was getting dark, and flash photography seemed rather intrusive and highly inappropriate for the peaceful tone that settled on the place. We took tea, enjoyed the sunset, and Timothy talked about how his mother used to care for anyone passing through their village. Their compound was always a place you could stay, eat, and relax.

We said our good-byes and moved on to the next compound. An elderly lady came out of one of the huts. She was bent over and seemingly trying to come to terms with her lack of mobility compared to her younger years, yet she was absolutely stunning. It reminded me of the lecture, I think it was Lauren Winner, gave on beauty at the January Series last year. She was not beautiful in the sense of what history she might hold in her small frame or the love that she poured out on her children or the suffering she must’ve experienced in her long life—she was simply beautiful.

This was Timothy’s other mother, his father’s first wife. He looked at me and laughed and knew I couldn’t understand, “but this is the way we grew up” he said. I should’ve told him I recently was trying to sensitize a couple of Americans who were working here to the benefits of polygamy and how the way missionaries entered the scene actually might’ve done more harm than good in some ways—especially when it comes to men taking responsibility of their children. I am still a proponent of monogamy, believe me. But when the missionaries emphasized one wife for each man, many of these men still continued to have girlfriends on the side or cheat on their wives. Yet if they fathered children with these women, instead of caring for them as family he would emphasize that he only had one wife and therefore was only responsible for her and her children.

Timothy listened to her tell him about the granddaughter who had committed suicide. He also explained to me that her son had been killed by the LRA on this compound and her grandson had been abducted at the same time. It’s hard to reconcile the papers I’ve written and books I’ve read about this conflict and finally be here and know families who have truly suffered through it.

We said our good-byes and moved on to the wedding. We arrived in this village compound just as it was becoming too dark to see very far in front of you. I wondered how this would work if no one could see anything. My questions were quickly answered when I heard the roar of a generator and two lightbulbs strung from trees flickered and then lit up the compound. We sat in some chairs under a tent between one of the huts and the small concrete rectangular house. Timothy explained the whole process to me including penalties of speaking out of turn and shaking your mother-in-laws hand.

The grooms family was in the house, discussing what they would bring to the wife’s family as a dowry. The wife’s family waited in the hut to hear their offer. At one point you saw the grooms family leave the house with their lantern, bags of soap, and other gift items. They walked single-file to the hut. They removed their shoes and crawled inside on their knees. The grooms family has to hold such high respect for the wife’s family that they can be fined for a number of things (such as looking at the ceiling or pleading or speaking out of turn.) And so we waited, friends and well-wishers. After a while most of the well-wishers became impatient and actually left. Timothy explained that quite often, a decision might be put on hold until morning if the offer wasn’t good enough.

We waited almost three hours when the grooms family all poured out of the hut again.

“Oh, this is a very bad sign, the wife’s family hasn’t accepted.”

I must admit, I was quite tired at this point and was ready to contribute what they still needed. A bar of soap? Sure, got it covered. But I think it had more to do with cows which I could do very little about. I found a baby to hold and actually fell asleep at one point in the chair while I was holding him.

The grooms family discussed among each other what to do and re-entered the hut. Perhaps 30 minutes or an hour later (I have no idea, I might’ve fallen asleep again), we heard the ululations by the brides aunt. This was a good sign—the offer was accepted.

This is when they started eating and celebrating together. It’s also the time Timothy took me home so I could sleep—I was exhausted.

And so life continues in Northern Uganda, despite a rebel leader who is unwilling to sign a peace agreement. People are being given in marriage, children are finishing exams, businesses are growing, and everyone hopes and prays that this place will never return to war.