Atanga--Monday Night

Atanga

The first night at Atanga, we stopped for a cold drink (room temperature) at Brenda’s restaurant. It is called Good Times, and I will take a picture of it eventually for the blog. The miniature bike that bought for me to ride to school and back had broken down, and I had left it up the dirt road with the bicycle repairman. The entire town laughs at me, when I ride by, because the big is way too small for me. Anyway, it was a good happy hour at Brenda’s drinking warm coke with my Atanga teaching partners (American) and Otim John (my Ugandan team teacher).
Brenda had come into town and was sitting on a blanket in front of her restaurant. She had been beaten by an unknown assailant the week before. She still looked she was in bad shape, as it was tough for her to hear. As we listened to Otim John, more than a dozen people from the village of all ages and genders made their way to Brenda to inquire about her well being. She greeted all of them with a silent smile, and they then leaned close and whispered their words of encouragement to her. Even the LC3, the highest elected official in the village came by to check on her condition. I do not know how to describe the sadness around these visits, yet the people still came by, got down on the blanket with Brenda and gave words of friendship and kindness.
While all of this was going on, we listened to the everyday words of Otim John, as he described how he had survived, taught, and lived through the days of the LRA occupation. He took great pride in telling us, that he never left. While others sought safety in Gulu and even Kampala. John stayed, he needed to be close to his parents and he tried his best to keep Atanga, the school, going during these days of violence. He talked about having to hide and sleep in the bush and tall grass while the LRA was in town, looking for them with possible kidnapping or murder being the end result. There were just a few years, where the school had to be moved up to Kitgum to survive, but in the end these people, these simple warriors stayed in their towns, and hid from the violence. They talked about hanging out in Brenda’s restaurant during heavy rains, not sleeping and keeping an eye out, up the road for possible signs of the LRA rebels. I am writing this on Wednesday to post this weekend, and I realize that life in Atanga, even in peace is not an easy life. The people work very hard to grow their own food, and to scramble during difficult times. I hope that when I come back to America and encounter small struggles in my daily life, I can remember the courage and the resilience of these people, the kind and courageous men and women of Atanga.



John