How to invite people to a meeting....

The sorghum wheat and sunflowers are taller than our vehicle on either side, we’re bouncing up and down, riding over crater like potholes, and Alfred, one of my African team members, tells me “Yes, this is how you keep your body strong, and stay fit, you have to hang on very tight.”

I can already tell my left arm has been doing the work of steadying my body over the endless jerking of the vehicle. The breeze flowing through the windows feels like a blessing; and I question why they’re being rolled up. “You see, here in Uganda we have limited eye care, so we must take all precautions; close the windows.” As he’s saying this, I got jabbed in the cheek by loose particles flying in the window as the 12 foot tall crops are inviting themselves into our open windows; I assist in rolling them up. We’re on our way to 3 IDP camps (Internally Displaced People), where we’re to meet with the camp commanders and the local camp leaders to set up a meeting the next week with them and their community about identifying what the camp needs are; essentials like water, a place to go to the bathroom.

Arriving at the camp, there’s about 50 round mud huts, all roofed with dried straw, swept dirt ground, there are women walking with water and firewood balanced on their heads, children walking with younger siblings tied to their backs, children running free, chickens, goats, and a few wandering cows. These are all good signs for this community - despite the lack of basic living essentials and poverty, they’ve been able to establish a safe area outside of the huge mother camp of Patongo. Peace has been stable enough, and if it continues, the next step will be to continue home to their villages. It's been 20 years since they were there.

The camp commander sees we’ve arrived, approaches us, and tells us to follow him to his office as he hops on the back of a bicycle, leaving us a trail of dust to follow. Following it, we stop, and although I see no ‘office’ in sight, I am told we’ve arrived. I look up, and see it’s a giant mango tree. So we gather around, underneath the shading branches, appreciating that this office has a natural air conditioner. The 2nd camp is much the same, and this time I find myself looking for the mango tree, anticipating that it must be someone's “office”. In this meeting I peered around the edge of the vehicle and saw a collection of people had gathered, curious as to what these conversations were about. It appeared a bit like the game of telephone, where one person hears the message, and then whispers it to the next, and the next. As we depart for the 3rd camp, and travel down the previous road, I sense this one might be a bit further to get to from the directions Alfred is giving our driver Tito: “Yes, look for the small stick on the right, that is where we turn”. Sure enough, there it was. I barely saw it, but we turned and now were driving down what seemed like a walking path that only 3 people had ever been on, through the 12 foot high field that smashed against the vehicle. After driving for quite some time, there is a discussion about where to go next, and then a woman and man are spotted ahead. Appearing about 70 years old, I am trying to imagine where they are walking to, considering the distance we’ve been driving. She tells us in her local language of Luo, that they’re going to collect food from the World Food Program distribution air drop, and that up ahead we may want to use the 4wd because of all the deep mud holes. Sure enough, the mud holes seemed to swallow more of the car than I cared to see, and this was not yet the rainy season.

Arriving at this camp, we see it's actually only 1 hut at the moment. Apparently more will be coming at some time, but for now the man tells us that he is the camp commander. (By default, I suppose). This meeting is held back among the banana trees, where I see the women are sorting out some spinach-like plants and my eyes are drawn to the handmade sling-shot on the ground. I ask if I can try it, and successfully load a piece of the hardened mud and aim for a close range trunk of the banana tree….hitting it…and smashing the mud ball. While chatting about the business, and discussing the community meeting that will be held next week, we’re all gathered around the spinach plants, sorting out the leaves and forming a gigantic mound of greens preparing to be cooked. As we’re getting ready to leave, I ask the man about the use of his slingshot, wondering if it's for fun or for hunting. He replies “For hunting small birds in the sky”, and proceeds to pull out small, de-feathered bird from his trouser pocket, and says “Here, a gift for you.” After he explained to me how to eat the back legs of the bird, which was not bigger than a robin, I decided to leave it with him and his family as an addition to their spinach dinner.

Returning to our vehicle, without the bird, but with more knowledge of life here, I complimented Tito on the music, and he replied 'Yes, Kathleen, I don't know this man singing, but I always feel like dancing when hearing him !'

As we drove back through the fields of sunflowers, I wondered if I should share the name of this artist, and finally did tell him that it was in fact 'Bob Dylan'.