To the numerous Ugandans we nearly hit we were little more than a big blue blur going way too fast. We were on our way to the war torn town of Gulu traveling as a group of 35 in the back of a truck with all of our equipment underneath us and around us. Gulu is a place that has spent more than twenty years being trapped in the middle of a rebel war. Its children have been kidnapped and brainwashed, scarring them for life and begging the attention of international aid agencies.
The ride to Gulu is a memory just begging to be written about. We may have been a blur to those we met along the way, but to me the country of Uganda was unrolling its giant green carpet before the uninhibited adventurer, the dreamer of a thousand and one dreams, to Joseph Batts.
Those dreams and lofty ideas of adventure kept me busy on the long journey, but clashed with reality upon arrival in Gulu. We began our school ministry at five thirty the next morning with what the Ugandans call Morning Glory (get up really early and wake God up with worship). The schools were great! We went to all sorts of schools that week, but only one sticks out in my mind as I write this.
At a town called Awach we encountered a school that I cannot get off my mind and heart. The students were all but silent and still as the team performed our skits and upbeat African worship. A clap out of one of the students here and there kept us going but the heaviness was as thick and suffocating as being trapped under water. We were about to leave and pack up when, as we bowed our heads to pray, etched into the desk I was seated at was clearly written the words “I Killed.”
The context is a little weak and the understanding of those kid’s stories too light for me to assume what I assumed in that moment, but my prayer still remains. That God would fix the problem and heal the wound war had cut into those kids. Next week we head to Kabali. Please keep the people of these towns in your prayers.
Your brother forever in Christ,
Joseph Batts
