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.