Sylvia Nankya: December 2012
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| UPDF officers working tirelessly to get us out of the mud in pader |
After a very hectic working week in Pader District, I just couldn’t
wait to get back home (Kampala). I knew it would take me about 8 (eight) hours
to get to my dream destination but I was prepared for the long wait.
Little did I know, that in Pader, we don’t make
plans but the situation actually determines how and when to travel.
We hit the road at 4.30 pm, hoping to get to Lira In a space
of two hours and straight set off to Kampala. However, an hour into the
journey, we found two heavy trucks had failed to negotiate through the muddy
roads, and had basically blocked the road.
At first I thought we did not have a way through and the only option is
to turn back to Pader, and use the Gulu
road through Acholi Bur, my colleague Sam Gumah however thought otherwise and
sailed through a little path that was left on the side way.
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| Many such trucks could not sail through the impassable roads in Pader district |
My heart skipped a bit, knowing we couldn’t make it to the
other side of the road. A few onlookers were also warning us that the other
side was too slippery for any MV. On the
contrary, we thought any movable object could not stop us from getting home in
time, but in just two minutes, I was screaming on top of my voice, we swung for
a number of times before we eventually settled in a groove.
I sighed with relief after realizing that we had landed
safely although albeit in a tone of mud. On top of that, I doubted if we could be able
to get home in a day or two considering that we were in an isolated place and
the “wanainchi” around there were deliberately unwilling to help.
In Buganda where I grew up, I have known people to be empathetic
and willing to help; I was surprised when the men around us refused to help
claiming they were tired. Granted,
they were entitled to the option but the way they stayed up looking at us
struggling to get out of the ditch was really annoying, how I wish I could talk
to them in a language they understand? Unfortunately I was a Luganda-English
speaking muntu, while they were Acholi-Swahilli speaking Nilotics.
One hour down the road and there was no progress on our
side, like the Baganda say “Eteefe
etuusa mugenyi” literally meaning that visitors always come in just on time to
save one from dying , there came a pick up full of UPDF officers and soldiers.
As they got to our point, they all disembarked. In swahilli,
a plain clothed officer directed them to ensure that we get out of the Mud. some of them put off their shoes and folded their uniforms as they struggled to get us
out. even those who did not remove their shoes were ready to dust themselves.
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| UPDF at work |
However considering that our front tires
were all covered in the mud, they could not make much progress. Their commander
then stated: “it does not matter how long we spend here, as long as we get you
out of this situation.”
This statement humbled me and left me speechless, because
then I knew that even if we spent the night in the jungle, we had all the
protection we needed.
At this point UPDF became
my Army, My savior and my Defense Force.
Then I remembered how I had almost stopped my sister C .W. Nalwoga
from joining the army a few years ago. I almost called her to say Cathy: I am
sorry, I was making a wrong decision, but I instead felt a lot of pride that
she was “one of them.”
Even though we eventually got additional support from Pader
town in order to get ourselves out of this mess, I feel indebted to the UPDF
for their willingness to stand with is all through.
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| And finally, we found our way out |
This is why Sylvia Says "It is Possible"
