Stop and smell the roses
May 25, 2006
The Red Cross LandCruiser that I had been travelling in pulled up at the edge of Omiya Anyima internally displaced people’s camp.
By Elvina Nawaguna
The Red Cross LandCruiser that I had been travelling in pulled up at the edge of Omiya Anyima internally displaced people’s camp.
My well-used, expensive blue denims, brown pair of moccasins and white cap were covered in dust. I had carefully picked my attire for this trip, because I didn’t want any contact with the germs and disease that might be roaming the camp air. Only a really stubborn germ would make it past my original denims, closed shoes and Diesel T-shirt.
We had travelled about an hour- and-a-half from Kitgum town in northern Uganda to get here. I was expecting the sombre, death-walk, zombie welcome. How could I expect the traditional African welcome from where only pain, suffering, death, poverty and homelessness have abound for years?
A host of joyful children quickly gathered around the cars. Here, a torn shirt; there, a naked little body; flies on a cheerful face, mucus running down the nose of another; a path of dried tears on a laughing face. A stick ridden as a bike and a baby carried on the back of another, their mothers smiling endlessly and speaking a language I could hardly decipher, were a sight to remember.
One common thing among them was that they were all cheerful like all that mattered was being alive and seeing new faces.
The dirty, yet jolly faces made me feel suddenly sheepish about my conceited sentiments and carefully-picked dress. These people had nothing, but they could smile and laugh and even tease me as my two new self-made friends Ayieko and Chiela did.
“Nying’a?†(What’s your name?) I asked the two girls of about six years, as they beamed at me. “Ayiekoâ€, one answered, but her friend giggled and said “Pe’angeyo†(I don’t know), causing laughter among the rest of the children. Chiela later told me her name and the two children kept showing up throughout the three hours I spent assessing the work of the Uganda Red Cross Society in the camp.
Every time my eye caught my two little friends and their playmates, I knew there were lessons for me to learn at Omiya Anyima Camp. There was something in these seemingly suffering children that I didn’t have and I badly wanted — the ability to be peaceful and joyful in the midst of a storm.
There I was; I have everything I need to live a comfortable life. Yet my soul is restless, my attitude cynical and pessimistic from past experiences and my heart weary with fear. Fear of getting contaminated with dirt from innocent children, fear of poverty, fear of a tomorrow that I have no control over.
The big house, big job, big salary, big car and beautiful wife are the perfect combination to make a happy man. But then, how often does the owner smile from the heart, except when trying to get something out of someone. Bedtime is a time to fall asleep with a weary, peaceless heart and a frown. You hate and worry about what happened yesterday, what didn’t happen today and what might happen tomorrow.
Ayieko and Chiela and their families have one meal a day of peas donated by World Food Programme. Their skins are patched from dryness, because they cannot afford lotion. They have lost a parent or two, a brother, a daughter and everything to war. They have all reason to sulk, cry and get restless in self-pity. But no, they don’t. They laugh. They play. They are happy. For them, there is more to life than their problems; than just trying to make it through the day.
The women laugh in conversation; the men serenely play cards and drink malwa under a tree. They seem to forget the dark spots in their lives and make the best out of each moment they are privileged to stay alive. Maybe sometimes, what matters in life is to just look up to the skies and thank God for what we have, because others don’t. To draw peace and contentment from knowing that even when business deals go wrong, the best gift of all is that we are alive and that is reason enough to smile. After all, what reason is there to live for years with a restless heart?
And in the words of Michael Douglas to his ever-worrying companion in The In-laws “Stop and smell the roses.†Just like Ayieko and Chiela do everyday in the midst of lack, hunger, pain and suffering.
When I got to the next camp in Pader, I shed off my pride and vanity and joined the children in a skipping game and boy, didn’t the roses smell sweet!
The Red Cross LandCruiser that I had been travelling in pulled up at the edge of Omiya Anyima internally displaced people’s camp.
My well-used, expensive blue denims, brown pair of moccasins and white cap were covered in dust. I had carefully picked my attire for this trip, because I didn’t want any contact with the germs and disease that might be roaming the camp air. Only a really stubborn germ would make it past my original denims, closed shoes and Diesel T-shirt.
We had travelled about an hour- and-a-half from Kitgum town in northern Uganda to get here. I was expecting the sombre, death-walk, zombie welcome. How could I expect the traditional African welcome from where only pain, suffering, death, poverty and homelessness have abound for years?
A host of joyful children quickly gathered around the cars. Here, a torn shirt; there, a naked little body; flies on a cheerful face, mucus running down the nose of another; a path of dried tears on a laughing face. A stick ridden as a bike and a baby carried on the back of another, their mothers smiling endlessly and speaking a language I could hardly decipher, were a sight to remember.
One common thing among them was that they were all cheerful like all that mattered was being alive and seeing new faces.
The dirty, yet jolly faces made me feel suddenly sheepish about my conceited sentiments and carefully-picked dress. These people had nothing, but they could smile and laugh and even tease me as my two new self-made friends Ayieko and Chiela did.
“Nying’a?†(What’s your name?) I asked the two girls of about six years, as they beamed at me. “Ayiekoâ€, one answered, but her friend giggled and said “Pe’angeyo†(I don’t know), causing laughter among the rest of the children. Chiela later told me her name and the two children kept showing up throughout the three hours I spent assessing the work of the Uganda Red Cross Society in the camp.
Every time my eye caught my two little friends and their playmates, I knew there were lessons for me to learn at Omiya Anyima Camp. There was something in these seemingly suffering children that I didn’t have and I badly wanted — the ability to be peaceful and joyful in the midst of a storm.
There I was; I have everything I need to live a comfortable life. Yet my soul is restless, my attitude cynical and pessimistic from past experiences and my heart weary with fear. Fear of getting contaminated with dirt from innocent children, fear of poverty, fear of a tomorrow that I have no control over.
The big house, big job, big salary, big car and beautiful wife are the perfect combination to make a happy man. But then, how often does the owner smile from the heart, except when trying to get something out of someone. Bedtime is a time to fall asleep with a weary, peaceless heart and a frown. You hate and worry about what happened yesterday, what didn’t happen today and what might happen tomorrow.
Ayieko and Chiela and their families have one meal a day of peas donated by World Food Programme. Their skins are patched from dryness, because they cannot afford lotion. They have lost a parent or two, a brother, a daughter and everything to war. They have all reason to sulk, cry and get restless in self-pity. But no, they don’t. They laugh. They play. They are happy. For them, there is more to life than their problems; than just trying to make it through the day.
The women laugh in conversation; the men serenely play cards and drink malwa under a tree. They seem to forget the dark spots in their lives and make the best out of each moment they are privileged to stay alive. Maybe sometimes, what matters in life is to just look up to the skies and thank God for what we have, because others don’t. To draw peace and contentment from knowing that even when business deals go wrong, the best gift of all is that we are alive and that is reason enough to smile. After all, what reason is there to live for years with a restless heart?
And in the words of Michael Douglas to his ever-worrying companion in The In-laws “Stop and smell the roses.†Just like Ayieko and Chiela do everyday in the midst of lack, hunger, pain and suffering.
When I got to the next camp in Pader, I shed off my pride and vanity and joined the children in a skipping game and boy, didn’t the roses smell sweet!