Today when I looked at the paper, I saw the number of dead from yesterdays bombing has risen from 65 to 75. Amongst the dead was an Invisible Children roadie--someone who went from college to college in the US trying to raise funds for Ugandan student scholarships. His name was Nate. He was 24. He had been associated with IC for the last two years. I am new to the program and never had the priveledge of meeting him, but several at the main office knew him; today they mourn.
Last night, at the compound, we had a meeting of the 25 teachers to discuss what had happened. Questions were raised as to whether on not the publicity would help to make us more visible as possible targets, potential trouble when we travel back through Kampala to leave, and possible new safety precautions we need to take. Several changes are to occur in our program: teachers that previously resided Monday through Friday outside Gulu will now be picked up and returned to the compound every night--an hour plus drive over dusty, bumpy roads; we are not to travel out at night; our activities are to be restricted to going to school and then returning home. While only temporary, and undeniably appropriate, several of us (myself included) now must excuse ourselves from aready arranged visits to homes and villages. However, I find I am incredibly impressed with the men and women with whom I am now associated. No-one suggested leaving. No-one cried tears other than tears of sorrow. Instead, there was firm resolve to redouble our efforts, to be better, stronger at what we do, to continue to put a good face on the program, our country, ourselves.
Today at school, the Ugandan teachers came to me and offerd sympathy for my loss. I was amazed. I felt then and feel now, the shoe should be on the other foot. I thanked them, but made my best effort to return the sympathy. After all, had Uganda not lost 74 of their brave citizens? I knew none of them either, but today, my heart goes out to all their families.
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