Having grown up in the Midwest, I have been completely deprived of mountains; at the sight of them now I am always captivated. From an atheistic perspective, they are majestic, sometimes exhibiting unique rock formations and other times simply the mere size is amazing. Scientifically, it can be fascinating to watch the variety of plant and animal life, from the base of a mountain to the top can yield completely different species (Keeping the amateur hiker, like myself, distracted from her tiring muscles.) These were the thoughts circulating though my head on a recent visit I made with Bishop James and other church leaders from the Church of Uganda to an Ik village called Tultul.
Every year the dioceses staff decides on a region where churches are not regularly supported by church leadership and travel there for a few days to worship and spend time with the congregations in the area. Near the village of Tultul is a small church under the authority of the Church of Uganda, Kotido Dioceses. This year the Dioceses staff decided to make Tultul the focal point for their annual mission trip. Tultul is located in the mountains at the edge of the Ugandan escarpment dropping into Kenya and South Sudan. Astonishingly the Ik people find enough water and semi flat areas for agriculture to sustain their village. As I mentioned in a previous blog entitled “MCC Ik Project” they have been exploited of their cattle because of raiding between two other tribes, the Dodoth, and Turkana. However, the majority of Ik income is generated through their honey production; all over Uganda the Ik are famous for their honey production and bee-keeping methods. I have heard people say in mystical tones that Ik honey is the best in the world because of the species of flowers that grow on the mountains where the Ik live.
I had been dozing in the car until we arrived at the village, for a moment I was extremely confused; the only structure I could see was a circle of tree limbs standing on end with a small entrance on one side. Bishop James announced we had arrived at our “accommodations”, simultaneously I felt very strong the “accommodations” were not going to accommodate me. Everyone piled out of the vehicle, a few Ik children, and a strong wind were the only greetings we received, with our stiff legs rebelling against us we began to explore our new home for the next two days.
A woman in our group led me down a sudden drop off from the tree limb fence onto a rocky path that led out along a ridge to a small cluster of huts. The view from the huts was inconceivable. The Rift Valley was literally spread before me as far as I could see. From where I stood the ground dropped off suddenly and the valley began; long, tree filled, and then where it opened from the mountains; sandy desert, rock formations, and hawks circling high above on updrafts. Suddenly the “accommodations” seemed more than adequate. I returned back up the ridge to Tultul and began unpacking; five women, and I shared a hut for the two day stay. Other team members used two other huts, and the vehicles we came in. Our supper that evening was cold greasy spaghetti while the wind stung our cheeks. But as the stars came out, and the villagers gathered for their evening worship of songs and prayer, I was reminded of the Karamoja legend teaching that the belt in the constellation of Orion is the gate of heaven; on a starlit night in Kaabong you can nearly touch Orion’s belt.
In the morning Mama Rose, the wife of Bishop James, had warm chai and mandazees (a variation of doughnuts) for our group. We sat around smoky fires and chatted about the night; most of us had slept on dirt floors and some of the older group members were complaining about their achy joints. Around 10:00 am Calvin, the leader of outreach and ministry, told us it was time to go.
When we had arrived at Tultul the previous day, I assumed it was the “remote village” everyone had been referencing. But, Bishop James, and Calvin had other plans. According to the pastor of the congregation in Tultul there was another village, about three hours hike from Tultul called Lopok. The Ik people have become very skilled at moving through the narrow mountain paths, trips that take them three hours take others at least double that. Three hours after our group left we were at the top of the second mountain we had climbed that morning looking at another beautiful perspective of the Rift Valley, but only half way to Lopoko. Our Ik guides teased us mercilessly but our clumsy legs rebelled against any rapid movement on the narrow steep paths. Another two hours of pulling ourselves up the mountains with grass growing on either side of the path, and sliding down the steep slopes finally brought us to the last rocky ascent to Lopoko.
When the villagers saw us coming they began running down the opposite side of the ridge we were climbing. They hid half way down the slope where we could not reach them and remained there until a few brave youth came to investigate who we were. Later we found out soldiers periodically pass through and bully the villagers into giving them food and a place to stay for as long as they demand it. It took them a few minutes to reorganize, but when the Ik discovered the Bishop of the Kotido Church of Uganda had come to visit them they scrambled up the slope as quickly as they could.
For the next hour the Ik village and our group met on a narrow ridge, perhaps 50 feet long and ten feet across. We sang a few songs, had a short devotional, and prayed together. It took much longer to travel to the village than the actual service took at Lopoko, but there was something very meaningful about putting so much effort into arriving at a place simply to worship.
On the way back my flip flops broke so I had to walk the remaining five hours barefoot through the mountains but the hike seemed to pass by more quickly. I had also made a friend with one of the Ik children; she became very amused by moving quickly ahead of me and hiding in the tall grass that grew on either side of the path. As I would walk past her hiding spot she would jump out, she succeeded in scaring me every time, which got a bit tiresome for me but kept her immensely entertained.
As we made our way back into Tultul, Mama Rose had hot bathing water, tea and rice and beans ready for us. I bathed in a roughly constructed open roofed structure on the edge of the village with the darkening sky above me. It was by far the best shower of my life, and the hot tea, and rice and beans were the best supper I could have asked for after the day.
The following morning, we all made our way to the small church for a confirmation service being held for some Ik youth. As I looked out from my church bench, into the mountains I had crossed the previous day, I realized a third perspective mountains offer: the reminder of my true size; when I look at mountains I remember that I am one person from a population of seven billion. “Accommodations”, “best shower”, and “best supper” are all comparative to a context. This year I have been blessed to have my context challenged; I have learned with heaviness, my normal is not normal for most people.
Now when I see mountains I am still amazed at their beauty, I still find value in the diversity of wildlife; but, I am also reminded of people who embrace a different normal. People who fear visitors because they may be violent soldiers, people who mysteriously produce the best honey in the world, and people who have discovered the gate to heaven in Orion’s belt.
An Ik child beside the escarpment outside the church
A small Ik boy trying to fight the wind at Tultul
...only half way! My hiking buddy is the girl to my right.
