This last week has brought several opportunities to gather some insight into this country, its turbulent history, and the people whom have been present to experience it. Namely, I had the opportunity to meet a lovely group of women named the Comboni Sisters, a small order of Italian nuns. Please, allow me to provide a bit of background.

As has been prominent news over the last several years, Northern Uganda has been involved in domestic conflict, in large part to the activities of the Lord Resistance Army. International human rights groups have spoken out against the manner in which this conflict has been carried out, particularly on the topic of child soldiers, that is, children abducted from their homes or schools and forced into service to themselves carry out the violence being invoked on civilians. Although Northern Uganda today remains relatively stable, it is my assumption that many living in these regions are haunted by this history, carrying with them memories of unspeakable violence that remains hidden to the casual observer.

A few days ago, I received an opportunity see this part of Uganda first-hand, and to meet and have extensive conversations with individuals whom have lived this history. A friend and colleague came into Uganda with plans to work in Gulu, a small city of about 100,000 people, 4-5 hours North of Kampala by car. She invited us to come and observe the work they are doing there, training individuals with disabilities to be peer mentors for other adults with new-onset of disability. In addition, we were eager to meet many of the well-known advocates who are currently active in the region, namely the Gulu Disabled People’s Union, or GDPU. She and her team were staying at a Catholic convent run by the Camboni Sisters, and they invited us to stay with them. This seemed like a great option for accomodation so we easily agreed.

As we arrived at the convent after a long, hot, dusty bus ride from Kampala, we entered into the front gate. Immediately we were struck by a sense of peace that layered itself like a transparent sheet over the people, the buildings, the setting, and the sounds of this blessed place. As I took a shower and got ready for dinner, the heat of the day fell away into the calm, cool evening, and the voices of the sisters, singing in harmony during their evening prayers, blended with the ever-present chirp of crickets and the laughter from children at the boarding school next door. Dinner was served in a small, minimally decorated room as our voices quietly yet energetically discussed the day’s activities. The offerings included a little bit of lovely pasta or risotto, a welcome change from the posho, matoke and other relatively bland carbs that make up the staple of most meals here. The following morning they offered for us to attend 7 AM mass. As I drug myself out of bed and into the doors of an impressive church next door the convent, I was greeted by 200 school girls, in matching uniforms, crowded into the front few rows of pews, while the Sisters and a few other community members sparsely filled in behind them. Prayers began and soon thereafter we broke into song, 200 youthful voices raising on high to the beat of a few drums to declare the responses that are familiar to any catholic around the world... Hosannah, Hallelujah, among others.

That evening we had the opportunity to sit with one of the Sisters on the front veranda for several hours and to hear her tales of living in this place for the past 30 years. She has cared for the people of Gulu through times of terror and unspeakable atrocities, times of joy, and most notably, times of immense bravery. Her small frame, dressed in a simple grey skirt and topped with a white habit, spoke with intense animation as she recounted these memories.

I firmly believe that, no matter whom you claim to be your God, what you call your denomination ... if any ... or what drives you in your faith in the future, we, as citizens of the world, need to offer thanks to these women who have, for as long as any of us can personally remember, maintained a safe haven for those most in need. They have protected the children of Gulu, erected and maintained a house of prayer that brings joy and comfort to so many, and actively fought against the forces of oppression. While we are safe in our beds in the U.S. or Europe or whatever lucky place we might reside, they are working so hard, *every day,* to uphold the walls of this peaceful place. To me, they are an immaculate example of genuine caring and love, and a testament to the meaning of giving your life to make the world a bit of a better place for others. My many, many thank and words of admiration go out to them today.