When I graduated college this past May I was sure that I would never want to complete another assignment as long as I lived. Five months later that doesn't seem to be the case. I miss writing. I have always enjoyed it, and I miss going to the coffee shop and putting in my earbuds, drinking an Iced Chai with 2 shots of espresso, and writing for as long as I needed to in order to get out my thoughts and complete the assignment. So, to fill this surprising void in my life, my super talented and imaginative friend Jackie Knapp (check her out at
Paper + Sky) has agreed to give me creative writing assignments while I am here in Uganda so I will have an outlet for my unusual desire to type it out. The one that she gave me first was to write about my experience in Uganda thus far using color. So, here is the first of many creative writing posts that I will be putting on here. Thank you for indulging me while I work through these post-grad dilemmas.
Color evokes
emotion. Color reminds us of things that have since passed. Color associates,
clarifies, defines, and binds experiences with feelings that otherwise wouldn’t
be expressed. Color captivates. Experiences wouldn’t be as vivid and enriching
if they were isolated to a canvas limited to black and white. They would lack
imagination and beauty, longing for expression found only in the shades and
hues provided through an endless chromatic spectrum.
The world was not
created void of color. From the beginning of creation the Great Artist gave
richness and intensity to the universe. He molded. He sculpted. He painted. He crafted Uganda, a country rich with color.
Every small experience is engulfed with the richness of the palette of its
Master. Imagining the jungles of Rwenzori, the plains of Gulu, or the muddy
huts of Moyo would fall short of reality without the influence of the many
colors that paint the pictures stamped on the minds of their visitors.
Red is the dirt
packed down by the feet it has carried from hut to hut as it traces its way
through its country, marking the paths of the lives that depend on its
guidance. That red dirt is carried on the hands of the men who build, the
children who play, and the women who dig. White pants are no friend to this red
dirt, as soon as it makes its impression and transfers the color onto the
fabric, the connection is as permanent as the one between the two people that
have made the transaction. The stain runs deep, just like the relationships;
never ending, trust enduring, necessity mutual. The red in the dirt represents
hard work; it has seen pain and toil, heartache and trouble, tyranny and
disaster. It has also seen joy and laughter, introductions and wedding
ceremonies, family meetings, and the births of children. Life takes place on
this red dirt.
Green is the land
that defines Uganda; the land that earned the title “Pearl of Africa”, the land
that changes from one district to the next. From the jungles that surround
Bwindi, that give home to the gorillas and the chimpanzees, the bush that
conceals the villages of Kubamitwe, Swanta, and Busuku to the plains of
Murchison and Kibale that hold the beautiful beasts that find rest in Uganda.
This fertile, green land provides sustenance for its people. It provides
matoke, maize, cassava, and avocado, producing trees for building, and reeds
for weaving. This land works as hard at the people who dig it, returning the
effort with reward, giving confidence that their work will not be in vain. Life
grows out of this land.
Brown is the skin
that covers the people I love. Dark brown skin that walks the red dirt, digs
the green earth, drinks in the orange sun, bathes with the muddy water, and
cooks with the yellow fire. Dark brown that flashes by while riding the boda, only
for a moment in plain sight, waving, staring, smiling, yelling, “
Bye Mzungu!”,
and then gone again, maybe never to be seen again. This is the skin that
defines the person, that places them in categories of race; the color that has
limited and challenged. It’s a powerful color that carries assumptions of
intelligence, ability, lifestyle, and deservedness. It’s a color that has
taught me more than I thought I could learn; a color that has shattered prejudices
and preconceived notions. It’s a color that brings joy in a way that only those
who are blessed enough to experience it can truly understand. Life is enhanced
by this color.
Red is the blood
that flows through the bodies of the people who call Uganda their home, who
know no other home. Who fight and struggle to make their home one that they can
grow and flourish and provide for the children that God has given them. Their
deep red blood is thick and strong. It survives when most would collapse,
claiming victory at the end of each day, rejoicing upon waking each morning. This
red blood is rich in culture and customs; rituals that have withstood the test
of time, corrupt government rule, war, and tribal rituals. Customs that expect
you kneel when addressing an elder, that offer food even when it’s the last of
your food, customs that require elaborate weddings, and burials attended by the
entire village. This blood makes up these people, people loved by God, people
who survive against evil, people who have a way of taking ownership of a
person’s heart in a way that is unrivaled by most. Life flows out of this
blood.
Uganda is a
country rich with color that touches the soul and enlivens the spirit.
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| Source of the Nile in Jinja |
