Gulu Town is often called NGO Town, and with good reason. Following the 2006 cease fire that ended the war against the Lord’s Resistance Army in Northern Uganda, hundreds of NGOs swarmed into Gulu District, many of them making their residence in Gulu Town, by far the biggest city in Gulu District.
This is not to say that Gulu Town is big. In fact, compared to the swirling chaos that is Kampala, Gulu feels like a serene hamlet. I really love this about Gulu. I can walk almost anywhere and while walking my chance of being mowed down in the street by a taxi or boda boda is far lower than in Kampala.
Another side effect of Gulu Town being small is that the NGO presence is wildly apparent. Holy cats there are a lot of white people here. As I write this blog post, I am sitting in the Coffee Hut, a café that has the magical combination of free internet, a generator for when the power is out (which, as it turns out, is a rather common occurrence. For example, the power has been out all day today), and coffee, a combination which seems to attract muzungus like moths to a flame.
This new reality of living in a Uganda where my 16 SIT cohorts and I aren’t the only white people I see all day has been an interesting one. Sometimes, I find myself annoyed by it. I ask “what are they doing here?” Which, of course, is silly, since one could certainly ask the same question about me.
Other times, I feel like I want to avoid the places where muzungus hang out in town, but let’s face it, the power has been out all day, and I need to use the internet. So here I am.
I supposed I liked to fancy myself the cool American who isn't obnoxious like the other white people who just drop in on Africa from time to time. In many senses I hope I am less obnoxious, but really I am just a white person doing research here like anyone else, so I guess I just need to get over myself.
However, it is certainly a different spectacle to watch, especially as someone who is interested in studying the effectiveness of aid. Every day, I watch all of these muzungus buzz around Gulu town, wondering what their reason is for being here. A lot of them are students (In fact, there is an SIT group in Gulu this summer for a couple of weeks, which has resulted in getting to see Muna and Miriam, two of the SIT staff, around town, which has been fun!), a lot are missionary types, and the bulk are well meaning aid workers, trying to make Gulu a better place, whatever that means.
Sometimes I wonder how many well meaning white people a Gulu resident sees come and go in their life time, and what they would say has been the impact of this constant turnover on their lives.
Which is certainly not to say that these people aren’t doing good things. After all, I certainly like to think that my presence here has some purpose. But the constant flurry of good intention around town often makes me wonder what sense the NGOs and aid workers in town have of what the other NGOs and aid workers are doing, and how many of them stay around long enough to see the result of their actions.
Basically, it really makes me believe in the importance of transparency, coordination, and a commitment to accountability in foreign aid, more than I already did before my arrival.
Also, living in NGO town leads to some funny situations, such as the one that inspired the title of this post. Last night, Greg and I went out to a bar in Gulu that hosts a weekly trivia night on Thursday. We met up with three friends of his from Notre Dame (plus one of their fellow interns who is from Germany), who are just outside Gulu Town on this Notre Dame program as well as two of Greg’s coworkers from the clinic.
The bar was a funny scene. Roughly equal parts Muzungus and Ugandans hanging out and playing trivia, but decidedly Muzungu music in the background. This included the likes of Jason Mraz, Linkin Park, Third Eye Blind, and LFO. We did respectably at the trivia, but didn’t win. I suspect we’ll try next week.
Love and miss you all!!
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