Cognitive Evolution

31 Jan

        Confusion lurks. Identifying the intermittent, creeping anxiety does not parallel my existing life here. Why am I finding difficulty remaining and cherishing the moment? Perhaps I need to breathe and focus on reality.
After an exhausting day on Friday co-facilitating an HIV/AIDS awareness training at the UPDF barracks, I felt slumped. The recognized image of recently murdered Ugandan gay activist, David Katos’ headshot remained implanted in my swarming head. I was brought back to my colleague/sister’s maddening and horror-struck words immediately receiving the phone call, “Imagine being killed simply because you love another person?”
        No question the heinous murder received more global attention than local. While I’d certainly argue that greater awareness was raised in Kampala, Gulu clearly didn’t skip a beat. What constitutes austere homophobia in Uganda, Africa, and the larger world is a puzzling discourse that deserves deeper, imminent humanitarian consideration. At this point in my existing reality, I believe that as a human race we simply are not quite cognitively evolved. If we are, is this sincerely humanity?
        “Being gay is not African and not what Jesus would want!” aggressively shouted a University student I observed on the national nightly news. I couldn’t help, but respond to the crooked 13 inch television, “Are Jesus and Christianity African?” Religious ideology is at the forefront of my cognition these days as I’m currently researching the Westernization of mental health with formerly abducted youth in northern Uganda. As no shock, religious factions – Christianity – is deeply embedded in the theoretical and practical framework surrounding reintegration processes with this specific population.
        The first Senegalese President (which was in 1960!), Leopold Senghor, prominently uttered the phrase, “Human Rights begins with breakfast.” Those words sat with me while strolling the forty-five minute journey simply to find transport to the hospital on Friday evening. The two month old baby who lives in our compound was struggling with a 103 degree fever, continuous diarrhea and vomiting. I acutely observed his mother humbly walk down the dirt path with the lethargic newborn strapped to her back and personal belongings for the hospital resting on her head, as the Ugandan sun turned the sky a burnt orange. After living in an Internally Displaced Persons’ camp for years, singly raising two young children, fetching water each day, remaining unemployed, sleeping on the floor of a cramped hut with her mother, nieces and nephews, etc., does this woman just not have enough time and energy to rally for gay rights? Do her human rights begin with breakfast?
        Do Senghor’s words actually resonate with the majority of locals from Gulu? Or are people instead wrapped up in Christianity which denounces homosexuality? A bit of both? “You know when you live in such poverty, religion is the only thing to hold on to … it gives you a sense of hope.” I watched the fixed eyes of my coworker diligently study the broken road as he drove his old, power steering and passenger seat window-less teeny blue car. Upon further dialogue, the dude highlighted the profound impact of Jesus and Christianity that were brought by the white man. “You see, the white people came with Jesus and us Africans saw the way the white people lived. People wanted to believe what the white people said.”

        Why does my mind wander to innocuous ideals such as, “what am I going to do after I graduate, how much money do I have in my bank account, and when will I go fetch water today?” Why not focus on the integrity and aptitude of my current surroundings. While cynically interpreting life’s insecurities at some graduation party last Saturday afternoon , I fortunately became revived. A local Ugandan pop song – that I’ve managed to memorize every lyric to – blared on the loudspeakers. Within an instant, the stale dust swiveled in the air as the barefoot kids, elderly women, men and women simultaneously hopped and glided to the music. Smiles and laughter illuminated the energetic yet serene surrounding. At once, my negativity ceased and there I was at a graduation shindig in northern Uganda. I took a breath and began my moments of being present. As I sat with a purple soda in my right hand, half a smile on my face I amusingly thought, “Well if we are not cognitively evolved, at least the Acholi people know how to have a good time!”