A LAND ALMOST LABELED GONE.....FOR ME A LOVELY PLACE!

GULU


“Oh, thank God you’re back safely.” a friend of mine told me after I returned early this week from my first trip ever to Northern Uganda. As I tried to digest what she really meant by this, images of all the written tales of a long shattered world, no tapped water, bush covered paths, no electricity, accommodation or even food started coming back to me, Its amazing how much we live in our cocoons totally oblivious of life outside our circles. May be this would do, if we didn’t go around instilling these wrong bottled mentalities in other people, thank God I knew how much stock I had to put in these “little” stories and finaly for a weekend I was reawakened from my illusion of bullets flying from all directions, decaying corpses leaving the ground with barely any legroom, no water, accommodation and no food. Here I was in Gulu, real life staring me in the face. Like most journalists, writers or whoever cares to travel here, I could have continued the fad, this would be yet another of those “I walked into a disaster area” story. I promised my self that I would carry a true tale back home not of that which I imagined or I was expected to deliver but of a life I had lived, the truth of what I had seen. I longed to tell every one about this. That the potholes I suffered in Kampala were a myth in Gulu town not to mention the dust and pollution. That I didn’t miss Kampala or Jinja road because I interacted with youths clad in the latest outfits full of life littered on the town streets of Gulu .I had a full nightlife to be apart of .At a play ground just a few metres away was a Uganda telecom promotion with most of the top Ugandan artistes presenting, Havana Club and Corner pocket hangout were packed and lively. For a moment I started thinking twice about coming back to Kampala. Of course like any other life when I looked outside my hotel window the next day I saw a town of contradictions like any other, a small seasonal stream divides Gulu town with NGOs quarters standing with Manicured lawns, tall walled compounds and excellent restaurants with piped jazz music, relatively expensive meals and good back lighting. I couldn’t help but marvel at the contradiction of such un-rivaled luxury. However for me this was no shock this image was not as far fetched, I looked no farther than our own slums around Kampala or my neighbourhood down in Makerere Kikoni. Where you drive out of your gate in that luxurious car past the dirty looking woman or man to whom it would take a year to earn your month's pay. And even if you don't have a car, for you the realities of life are simply getting by on what you think is a peanut and grumbling about how hard life is yet you can afford to throw food in the garbage. Here I was in the luxury of Acholi Inn with a swimming pool, sauna and a fully stocked bar rite outside my room and I was still told that this was not the best the town had to offer, a few minutes away, was Boma an even better hotel. Gulu town provided me a normal life I could easily adjust into, markets bustling with buyers and traders full with products. Bars and cafes full of music and dance. Restaurants full and rich with food, what more could I ask? For me this was a life, like any other, “things are now a lot better” one would say, “I wouldn’t know” I would answer, what I know is Gulu is a surely a lovely place.