December 18th
So much for sleeping in this morning. I arrived at the Jeliza Guesthouse last night about 11:30. For weeks I’d dreamed about sleeping until midday, catching up on the sleep I’ve been deprived of the last few weeks. Waking up fresh. Ready to greet my friends and the challenges that lie ahead.
But those hours of sleep were taken away by the simple words of Deo, my trusty driver and friend, “The traffic is too much. I will pick you up at 8 tomorrow morning to take you to the Acholi Quarter.” Deo knows best. Sleep will wait.
Promptly at 8am, Deo pulls into the Jeliza and into his car we reload 5 large duffle bags, literally bursting at the seams - the head of a teddy bear poking through one hole and a new pair of shoes perilously dangling from another.
We travel swiftly through roads not yet clogged with the heavy traffic of Kampala to the Acholi Quarter, to where my friends await. I direct Deo to make a right onto a dirt path, more a path than a road, to wind his way up a different entrance to the Quarter than he’s come before. This path will lead us directly to the building we’ve finally completed - the meeting point for the members of Project Have Hope. As we approach, I barely recognize the building, now strengthened by cement walls and fitted with iron windows. But I recognize the faces of the nearly 50 women gathered outside the building, waiting my anticipated arrival.
Before Deo’s car can come to a stop, the women, recognizing the white-faced muzunga seated inside, encircle the vehicle with the shrill shrieks that accompany all of the Acholi’s celebrations. Shrieks and clapping and laughter drown out all other sounds as I’m passed from person to person and greeted with handshakes and hugs and the welcoming, “Apoyo bino.” As I try to return the frantic rush of hugs, I try desperately to avoid suffocating the babies clutching to their mothers’ backs. As the frenzy continues, I see Esther, standing toward the back of the crowd, with a quiet smile, waiting for me to reach her.
Esther, my surrogate mother, my friend - the woman who binds all the other women together into one cohesive unit - waits with a smile. I am home. I am among friends. And I’m not tired anymore.
