"Love may not always triumph, but it keeps us human . . . . Perhaps it is the only antidote. And there are times when remaining human is the only victory possible."
-Chris Hedges, War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning
After visiting Uganda twice in 2009 and having spent most of that time mulling around Kampala I have often told people wary about traveling to the Continent that Uganda, Kampala specifically, is a good first stop to make to get their feet wet.
Unlike neighboring East African capitals, Kampala is a city shrouded by seeming safety. We would often stay out on the town until all hours of the night, something that would be exceedingly more difficult to manage in neighboring Nairobi where the streets shutdown at sundown to anybody who isn't a thug, thief or general and legitimate hardass.
Despite the occasional story of robbery or attempted hijacking (one violent story of the kidnapping and rape of an American expat I remember would be an outlier on the graph), most of the unfortunate stories from Kampala's vault consisted of minor theft and threats - things that happen in any major urban center in any part of the world. It seemed that the most dangerous aspect of the average life of the Kampala expat would be the traffic, especially when on the back of a boda boda (the vulture-like motorcycle taxis that during heavy traffic are your only reasonable way to get anywhere).
All told, getting tossed off the back of a motorbike is probably still your greatest danger should you choose to use such transport, but it's not what your going to be thinking about - not after the World Cup suicide bombings of a rugby club and an Ethiopian restaurant that left over 70 dead earlier this month.
Somali group, and al-Qaeda affiliate, al-Shabaab have claimed responsibility for the attacks. There have been warnings of such an action for several years but in the end there's not much you can do to stop someone who with a bomb strapped to their stomach.
On al-Shabaab and why; the safety of Kampala:
The stability and safety of Kampala, some might say, has been shattered, but really it seems to me that it's always been teetering on a knife edge. Uganda is a country with a history of violence, from the terror reign of Idi Amin to the child abductions and warmongering of Joseph Kony. Today, despite the reasonably stable but largely corrupt two-decade rule of Yoweri Museveni, the nation sits in the midst of some of the most volatile conflicts of the last quarter-century - Rwanda, DR Congo, Sudan, Somalia. And last year's tribal riots in Kampala were what many are calling a precursor to the 2011 Ugandan presidential elections where Museveni will step down and someone new will fill the power void. Now add to this the gnawing fear of repeat terror attacks from Islamist extremist groups.
As soon as the bombings happened I received e-mails from friends with stories of their experiences and notices that they were alright. The most chilling of these came from a medical professional who was called to one of the scenes and described some savage details of what they saw. I sat around a bonfire in a friend's backyard in Winnipeg as these messages came into my Blackberry.
Nobody I knew was at either of the locations that were targeted, although the Ethiopian restaurant that was hit is literally just up the hill from where I stayed when I was there and a place I have visited before. Seeing pictures debris, overturned tables and chairs, and bloodshed is a little different when it's a place you recognize.
The next day tweets and status updates all had a common thread: It is a sad day in KLA.
At the end of my days in Kampala I would often sit with a drink and a cigarette and watch storm clouds gather on the horizon towards Lake Victoria. Maybe it was the times of year I was there but I rarely saw it storm in Kampala itself. It seemed the clouds would build into thunderheads and rumble to themselves but keep their distance from the city.
Once I began to learn a little more about to socio-political state of Uganda I always thought the storm clouds a fitting analogy - you could see them, perilous, in the distance, but you rarely felt their effects. You know the danger is there but when you see it enough times without getting wet you forget about what they can do.
Kampala got wet on Sunday, July, 11th, and I wonder how long it will be before the next storm hits.
With tried and tired peace but unwavering love from Winnipeg, Canada, where one can't possibly begin to understand.
