They Call Me Lokon, or something like that

(originally written Aug 25, 2006)


Stepping off the plane back into Africa was amazing. You get those stair style exits, and not the encompassing tubes that bring you from the plane to the terminal in an effort to keep you from the outside world and lock you into the airport as its own state and entity. Right off the plane, I'm standing there on the tarmac, in Africa, in Uganda. It looks, feels, and smells like Africa, even in the dark, from what I remember of being here years ago. I walked to the terminal with considerable excitement, queued up for my visa, and nervously wlaked out of the airport to meet Emmy, the man who was to meet me there. I've never really met this man before, but I've watched his wife, Jolly, on the film many times so I was hoping that I would somehow recognize him, or that maybe he would be holding one of those papers with my name on it to make me feel official. I had originally thought I would be easy to pick out from the crown in Entebbe Airport, but most of my flight consisted of Europeans and Americans in a way that almost felt odd until I learned that the next week was the first day of classes in the American school.
To add a fun bit of adventure, it took several minutes of walking around the airport for me to fully realize that Emmy was not going to be meeting me. Luckily, I had the phone number of another girl in country and I just had to figure out how to get change when all the exchange places were closed for the night. I was helped with directions from a friendly cab driver who eventually just let me borrow his phone as I tried to tell everyone that, no, I was comming in today, right now in fact, and not tommorrow. Eventually, we just decided to let the cab driver take me into Kampala to Emmy's house. Now, I've heard about these drivers. I've been warned about the speeds they drive on shabby roads, the tendancy to pass on a two lane road in the face of oncomming traffic barely missing the madly honking truck headed straight for them. So, I was braced somewhat for all of that (but I forgot I'd be sitting on the left side of the car and we'd be driving on the left as well) and just tried to enjoy the experience. We flew past people in the crazy dark night, telling them fervently with the horn, I'm passing you, stay out of the way. The driver edged the taxi into spaces between large vans and oncomming cars pulling similar maneuvers heading the other way, with a calm ease that actually allowed me to trust him and simply attempt to enjoy the ride and talk with him about life in Uganda. But we made it safely to the amazing house where Emmy proved one of the most hospitable hosts I've ever had, to the point were I could not refuse him taking tea despite the fact that I was sure that I should probably sleep soon and try to adjust being almost on the exact other side of the world.
I had a great few days in Kampala. I would head out in the day sometimes with Jason, Bobby, Laren, and Katie as they gathered some more shots for upcomming projects and tried to learn as much about the area as possible. When hanging around the house, I would play with Emmy's two boys who have an incredible love for fake punching while supplying sound effects with a quick fist to your own chest. While we were out at a place called Life in Africa, the original site for making the Invisible Children bracelets, doing some filming, the kind folks there--largely a group of Acholi from the north who moved down to Kampala--decided it was wrong that I should be moving to Gulu without an Acholi name, and so one man thought about it for a while and came back with "Lokwon" or possibly "Lokon" or even possibly "Lakon" (I had not yet learned the trick of carrying a book to right down the new words I learned in Lwo, the Acholi language.) The name means "helper," and I'm pretty sure comes from the image of me holding ladders, film equipment, and other things for the boys throughout the day, but it also I think works nicely for what I want to do here. All I really want to do is help, to help the people in the States make it over here and have them provide help for efforts of the Ugandan people here. So, I'll stick with it. I've seen some people shop around for names, and it's trully hillarious how the Acholi people give them out, it can sometimes be the most flippant occurance. I've seen boys named "Michael Jackson" and it is not an irregular occurance to have a pregnant woman ask one of us what to name her child. A few of my friends here have children in the town and around named after them. And so (despite the probable improper spelling) for some purposes, my name here is Lokwon Chris.
One day, I was sitting in the house in Kampala, talking with Okello Forever, a young man who helps around the house in the daytime and watches the gate of the compound at night as I waited for Seth and Ryan to come in so we would all head up to Gulu. We were having a fun conversation about any number of random things and he starts telling me about his home. His two brothers up in Gulu whom he tries to support with work in Kampala to pay their school fees. His parents who are gone. His time in school up there, as he tended goats and pigs to pay the fees until one day theives took his goats, and another day the rebels stole his pigs. At this point, I was shocked to find myself wishing we could return to the fun casual talking we were having earlier. I had watched the film so many times that these stories were familiar to me, they were the reason I was here, and yet I knew that, so did I need to here more of them, or couldn't we just be friends and friendly. I saw where it was going. Another day, the rebels came back to his town and he was abducted. Luckily, his journey in the bush only lasted one week before a UPDF (Ugandan military) force ambushed the rebels and he ran away, escaping by diving into a rushing a river and being carried downstream. Everything in his story was told so perfectly, in the same tone as any other tale, and I was reminded that it wasn't just about fun and interesting people and adventure. There was so much pain in this country that pain didn't even register as such any more, it came more as just something that happened in life.
And so we talked for a while more as I fumbled with what you could possibly ever say to something like that, and the next day we left, or tried to. It actually took quite some time of manuevering through the crowded bus park, Seth, Ryan, and myself waiting for the bus to Gulu which never came with everyone thinking it was quite the sight (especially Ryan who towers over most people), returning home, back the next day, and then up north. But we got to see Forever again, and Emmy and the boys, and hope that until we could provide any real susbtantial help, that friendship and talking was enough, and playing, and being there and trying to show something that looks like love.