My Only Note About Trauma

A number of people have emailed me to ask about my posts. The questions usually center on the impact of the war on this area. The Gulu I'm talking about doesn't seem to be the same Gulu that they've heard about. I've been asked a few times if the people have fully gotten over the war and maybe that is why I'm able to blog about things like boda rides, pizza, smiling children, and experiences at church. I thought I should address this briefly.

Last night I was fortunate to be a guest at the Catechist Training Center for supper. I had a meeting planned with Father Joe and he'd indicated that his schedule was quite packed but he might be able to give me some time after the meal. Our conversation meandered over the latest updates in my research topic (unofficial working title: "Spirituality and the Northern Ugandan War") and how beautiful the church bells sound in the morning. We spoke briefly about how long he had been with CTC (1986-1988, then again 1994-present). We talked about the hope that people felt throughout the war, how homilies had helped them, which songs had come to their minds during times of trouble, and other things. Later, as he and Apio (Denise) drove me back to town ("it would be unadvisable to take a boda on this road at night."), the conversation briefly paused as he told us that for ten years during the war 400+ children came every night to sleep under the verandas of the CTC in order to avoid abduction by the LRA. It was a subtle reminder of the not-too-distant past of Northern Uganda.

Some of the Verandas of the CTC

Make no mistake. The war may be over here, but this place is still recovering. Many people imagine war involvement being akin to asking an American if they had served in the military. You might have, or you might know someone who had. Here, asking if they'd been involved in the war is more akin to asking if someone from Las Vegas had ever been inside a casino or asking someone from Florida if they'd ever gotten a sunburn. It is nearly everyone in some way. The papers have done a poor job of conveying the magnitude of this conflict, although the picture painted is not entirely inaccurate. Every day I talk to people who lost loved ones, who lost limbs, who lost their homes, who nearly lost their lives.

But I want to be clear. The people I have met are not sitting around all day talking about the war and how terrible life has become. They are dealing with what is left and picking up the pieces. They are making the most of the tenuous but hopeful peace that has come to the area. The IDP camps have been dismantled, and while not everyone has yet gone home, many are trying to (or trying to figure out what they'll do now given limited resources or other limitations). There are now land issues to resolve, psychological traumas that linger, educational upsets that need to be mitigated amongst other things. Still -- this is a place of great hope.

I believe that there are enough news outlets, journalists, and researchers who can focus on the negatives here. They can tell you all day about Northern Uganda and the great work ahead of the people who live here. That is not the point of this blog. I want to show you the side of Gulu that doesn't always make the papers. The ebbs and flows of everyday life. The joyful singing during prayer services. The 'good morning' greetings of neighbors passing on the street. The happy children. THIS is Gulu for me. A place where hope is alive and people are interested in recovery, not self-pity. And THIS is why you're not going to hear much about trauma here. I believe it undermines the effort to move forward.

And the people here do wish to move forward.