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BOOKS:: Transcendent Spirit

Dancer, Francis Lubuulwa, 17, after the show said “People think, these are children who have lost their parents; they have had so many problems. But then they see us perform and tell us how wonderful it is. They see the joy and smiles we carry on stage. People learn from us that life goes on.”

Dancer, Francis Lubuulwa, 17, after the show said “People think, these are children who have lost their parents; they have had so many problems. But then they see us perform and tell us how wonderful it is. They see the joy and smiles we carry on stage. People learn from us that life goes on.”

In a country devastated by AIDS and warfare, coffin making is big business and coffin shops line both sides of the streets in many Ugandan towns and villages. Dusk falls over the main courtyard at the orphanage in Rakai district. It was in the fishing villages of Rakai in southwestern Uganda that the AIDS epidemic first emerged some three decades ago. A young resident of the Children of Uganda home in Kiwanga. About seventy percent of Uganda's orphans are victims of AIDS - more than one million children. Others are from families torn apart by the long-running bloody rebellion on Uganda's border with Sudan and those affected by severe poverty. Teddy sits by her mother’s side during a rare visit to her childhood home. Annette says her pride in her daughter’s accomplishments helps to make up for the losses she has suffered. Primary school children at Rakai home usually eat posho (maize meal porridge) and beans for lunch. The children line up with their tin plates to get their servings, then are allowed to sit where they like to eat and talk with their friends. Rakai students wait to take part in dance classes and, possibly, a chance to try out for the dance troupe that tours the US. Lunch at the Kiwanga home in Kampala is a much stricter affair than the Rakai home. The staff serves the same porridge, but the children all eat in one lunchroom in strict silence overseen by house mothers. Sweeping the chapel at dawn at the Kiwanga home. Children rise at five each day for morning prayers. They make their beds, do chores and begin the school day promptly at seven. Children at both orphanages are taught strict discipline and modesty. Girls and boys wear their hair cut short and do their laundry by hand. Sunday afternoon is a time for sports and relaxation at the Kiwanga home The children at the homes describe themselves as part of a family rather than as orphans. Children relax in their dormitory after lunch. Brian (left) rehearses with other dancers at the Kiwanga home. At first, he was very lonely at the orphanage, but eventually, he made friends. “Then they told me we were going to America.” He said, “I was so happy.” In July 2006, Brian follows government soldiers into the bush to find his father’s grave. They hiked for an hour in the midday African sun to find the site of the 1998 massacre where Brian’s father died. At first, the soldiers tried to block their way, saying rebels were active in the area and that it was too dangerous, but eventually they agreed to escort the group and protect them. Brian, his cousin and village elders cut through the brush to find the spot where the victims of the Pacho massacre were buried eight years before. The graves had nearly disappeared into the bush. Aside from seeing his father’s grave, Brian hoped he would also find the older brothers he had not seen since 1999. They had stayed in rebel territory, growing up as “night commuters.” After driving around, stopping and asking at various villages, the group finally stopped at a roadside bar. There, incredibly, both brothers just walked out of the bush. It was a sweet reunion with Mark, above, and his eldest brother Acire Mugisha. Brian’s cousin, George Okot greets his “auntie,” another survivor of the 1998 massacre. Bernard in Katwe, a rough-and-tumble neighborhood of metalworkers and storefronts on the outskirts of Kampala. He once lived in a room there with his mother and two brothers. In 2006, Peter Kasule finally made the journey to a mountaintop in Tanzania, where his father is buried. He placed stones on the grave, completing the last rites a Ugandan son must perform. Peter in the abandoned church where his father once preached. Peter remembers carrying stones to help build the foundation as a small boy Children at the orphanages gather for singing and evening prayers. When they journeyed back to rebel territory in northern Uganda for the first time in 2006, Brian and Nicholas brought their cousin, 18-year-old George Okot. George was kidnapped by the LRA and made into “a boy soldier,” but he escaped. After a four-hour wait, Ronald sees the doctor. He reveals why his immune system is weakening, admitting that he is not consistently taking his antiretroviral drugs. Ronald says he thought the drugs might make him sicker. On his way to visit his father’s grave, Peter makes a rare visit to relatives in Rakai where his grandmother leaps into his arms to welcome him. The family prepares a feast in his honor. Peter Kasule lived at the Daughters of Charity home in Kampala for seven years after the death of his parents and was a US Scholarship high school and college student. Now the artistic director of the dance troupe, Kasule likes to mix African dance and music with Western forms. He not only choreographs the troupe’s acclaimed performances, but also serves as master of ceremonies. Six-year-old Miriam Namala was a star of the most recent US tour with her featured solo during the Titi Katitila dance she rehearses here. The dance comes from the Bunyoro-Kitara people who celebrate one of the many extraordinary birds found in eastern Uganda. The lyrics say the titi katitila always sleeps better after seeing a friend. Francis Kalule, Brian Odong, Brian Aine and Patrick Nyakojo perform the Kinyarwanda dance named for the Rwandan language. It features the Rwemeza drums of the Banyarwanda royalty, played to announce the king’s entrance to the court. Right: Prudential Hall at Newark’s New Jersey Performing Arts Center. Dancer, Francis Lubuulwa, 17, after the show said “People think, these are children who have lost their parents; they have had so many problems. But then they see us perform and tell us how wonderful it is. They see the joy and smiles we carry on stage. People learn from us that life goes on.” The children hold nothing back during a dress rehearsal before a show at the Joyce Theater in New York. Zaam Nandyose, 16, is rehearsing a dance called Ekitaguriro, which belongs to the nomadic Banyankole people of western Uganda. The Banyankole are sometimes ribbed by their countrymen for their great devotion to their herds of cattle. This dance praises the long-horned cows of Ankole and Rwanda – found nowhere else on earth. The dancers imitate the sounds, rhythms, and the movements of the graceful cows. This piece features the omukuri, a flute used to herd the cattle.