Tuesday will be an interesting day. Another day creeps closer to the looming second block exams. More volleys of definitions, signs, symptoms, diagnoses, and numerous other facts will be flung at me from Power Point. My hands will be brought one step closer to being able to feel and heal the bodies I place them on. And Yoweri Museveni, the President of Uganda, will meet with George W. Bush to discuss a peaceful resolution to the conflict in Northern Uganda and the role that the US might play in that.
Wait. What?
It seems like I've been searching for a day like that for years, since I first heard the story of the Lord's Resistance Army. To go from there, to learning more about the children placed in harms way and the millions sequestered into devastation, to actually meeting children like Jacob in Uganda and continuously loosing at cards to him, to saying good-bye to all of my friends like Peter Paul and Abiyo Peter and leaving on a plane with their world so much closer to piece and yet still infinite steps away. Every tangible step since then, the renewed talks, the international pressure, the appointment of a State Department official to the conflict, and now to this meeting, strikes me with hope and fear.
Oddly, the fear comes first. First I remember hope that has bloomed before. That I have stood in front of crowds and told them that their actions would bring forward peace, that we were all a part of history. And also that my friends are more familiar with words and gestures of peace than they are with the actual living of it. And then I'm afraid. I fear that two men will sit in a room, comforted by the cushions beneath them, and talk of lofty things and vague, grand plans. That they will register the hope felt by everyone who understands the pinnacle of this time. That they will even voice their own hopes, and that will be all. Photos will be taken and politics will emerge the only winner available.
Then the smooth hope comes on. I remember the parade of white flags, how Jolly remarked that it was unlike anything she had seen. I remember Gulu blossoming. I remember two thousand people in Portland joined by tens of thousands everywhere. I remember talking with so many people who know that peace is the only option and who told their government so.
Then, I can pause and let the hope in. It's wild to think of what we've all been a part of. And it's far from over. Even after this talk, there will be more talks. Even after deals are signed, there will be reconstruction. Even with this looming before us, we still have to act. For those of you who read this before Tuesday is over, I'll provide a link to email President Bush, and help drive these talks towards the hope that we can all feel.
And then we sit and watch the news and listen for the echoes of all of our voices and our hope ringing out.
Email President Bush:
http://resolveuganda.org/node/416
About Me
- Chris Kargel
- Vallejo, California, United States
- "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light , not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of god. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make and manifest the glory of god that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marrianne Williamson (quoted by Nelson Mandela)
