Gulu, Uganda: the expected day of Kony’s signing.

The weather completely reflects the feelings of this small town of seven paved roads. Like ocean against sky, the mood of Gulu seems to mirror the atmosphere that hovers above it. Dark clouds, ominous and foretelling hardly allow the pink streaks of sunrise to push through. Against the howling storm of 22 years of terror, Acholi people manage to preserve the slightest bit of hope for this day. With timid anticipation, they rise for their 8,030th day of war - the day that could mark the end.

An older woman in her 60s walks toward town, her shoulders drawn down by a heavy bag carried around her neck. Asked about the day, she strains to lift her tired head. Through deep wrinkles, her eyes stand out in brilliant, youthful excitement. “This day is historic for Acholi Land,” she replies with glitter swimming in her eyes. “It is time. Time to go back to our land, resume our life and farm again” she says as her eyes wade out into memory past today’s tide of misery.

To those who do not recall peaceful times, reactions are far less genuine. Lukewarm anticipation mixed realistically with doubt is a natural reaction, undoubtedly caused by three previous peace talks that flopped. If dawn was marked with hope - vulnerable and fragile - the heat of the midday exemplifies the harshness of reality. Skepticism sets in as colors disappear and flatten the tone.

As the afternoon sun beats on the people to intensify the anticipation, they hover around the largest radio station in the North. Upstairs, the DJ sits in the news studio overlooking the people on main street. In reverence to the situation, he is silent. With one phone call, he will have a heavy responsibility. With the microphone before him, he will bring either limitless joy or painstaking grief to this fragile audience. Different from the typical final score announcements of a sports game, this outcome holds the weight of millions of people in limbo. The ears of 40 internally displaced camps are waiting, straining to hear the news.

Silence is broken. The News Correspondent slumps in his chair. The angst pours down the windows of his building as rain paradoxically begins to fall. “Joseph Kony is not serious,” he says in a defeated whisper. The broadcast breaks in across thousands of rusty radios throughout Acholi Land - Joseph Kony has delayed the peace talks to a halt. The sky, once broad with morning possibilities now pours on withered spirits. The same heads that stood fearless against the dawn’s early light now bow in defeat to a pelting rain. Sauntering home in descending dusk, the world is still, hanging for but a very real moment. And in that moment, life must go on as it always does. The people push ahead with the day given to them. In the wake of this upset, the night is still. People calmly go about their business. Steam swims through the night sky, a faint indication of the life that continues from the thousands of dinners cooking on open fire below. The people will rest and rise again. Tomorrow, on the 8031st day, they will once again streak the sky with their demand for hope.

-Jamie Roach (IC staffer on the ground in Uganda)

Share This