a notion of insecurity

i didn’t know what to expect in Gulu—Gulu! Gulu—the site of documentaries and horror stories, atrocities and a seminary. Father Raphael lost friends to violence at the seminary.

we eased into town and visited alllll of the hotels. Gulu! where the hotels are nice and the foods are multicultural. Ethiopian food was sufficiently delicious at lunch—when i spilled coke all over the table while uttering ‘igziyabher yimmesgen’—that we returned for wine with dinner, and the consequent long walk across town in the chill night rain.

we sat on the balcony and watched folks pass in the july rain. Gulu was nice—it felt developed, safe, comfortable.







we went for walks in the south. ‘what building is that’—of the white edifice to our north. entebbe peninsula sunsets were approaching, but i had left my memory card back at the hotel. they chuckled nervously ‘we don’t say what building that is.’

we spoke of the state house, the relaxed home of yoweri museveni, president of uganda.

to the hotel to retrieve my memory card, and then back for another long walk. entebbe peninsula—a thoughtless spit of land ignored by lake victoria, never much more than a half-hearted punt from the water, home to so many historical dead ends. but try as we might, we couldn’t reach water ourselves. a parable—an allegory?

night came; cities at night are sadness. but we strolled past fishermen’s hovels toward the stench of the lake. twilight, and the stiff men in whom was conflict between mathematics and physiology untangled their nets after another long day on the lake. small waves towards my toes.





we ate chinese food amid the intermittent municipal electricity. rum and coke with the cheapest food on the menu. we were going home.



a pleasant
with gracious wariness
sideways glances
a smile (somewhere in there)
tell me subtly
unexpected.
perfected:
a notion of insecurity
persistent without cause.
stoics and epicureans meet
under that bridge
(i think it’s at 28th and baseline)
and look into each other’s eyes
(but only when the other isn’t looking).
no laughter, just chuckling
‘don’t condescend’
no sights, no sounds, no textures
just the keyboard, my couch;
it’s not the same,
ad hominem, ad mulierum
but i’d fake it
you realist.