The Missionary Position in Uganda

Christianity and Africa have a very long and tortured relationship. Bringing Christ to the savages was one one of the main justifications for the scramble for Africa in the 1800's, providing a cloak for some of the most ghastly deeds of the colonisers relieving the white man's burden. I was surprised to discover that the same evangelising spirit is still alive and well today, the justification has altered slightly to helping bring development to Africa, but the motivation seems the same. In the space of two days in Uganda we managed to come across three different groups of missionaries - strangely all American, each more disturbing than the next.

In Murchison Falls National Park in Uganda we sat by the side of the iron red road, in the middle of a n iconical thick, green rain forest, seeking shade under a towering tree, from the scorching sun that burned ever more strongly as it made its way to its apex in the sky. We had seen the chimps in the morning, and were trying our luck waiting for a lift to take us up to the Nile and the reputably most powerful waterfall in the world. Very few cars passed in either direction, so when a red Landcruiser ambled up and stopped for us we quickly ran for the driver and began our pleading. The driver, a Ugandan heard us out and then said it was up to his guests, who conversed between themselves and agreed to take us on board. We threw are bags in the back and were soon motoring away.

It turned out that the elderly passengers where in fact the general counsel for the Church of the Latter Day Saints in Africa. He and his wife lived in South Africa, and travelled about Africa dealing with the legal problems of the Church all the way up to Sudan. After a while it seemed the driver was bored of his passengers, and when we got on to talking about safety and driving in Uganda he seemed to relish with glee answering Damo's question about whether he had been hijacked.

"Twice" he replied coolly, without battering an eyelid, "once on this very road and once in Kampala." We pressed him for details, and despite the looks of fear of the face of his passengers, he recounted both events in detail. He explained he was driving down this same road with an English tourist when he saw some soldiers on the road, he slowed down and as he drew close it was too late when he realised that they were in fact LRA soldiers (Lord's Resistance Soldiers - a wacko religious cult that wants Uganda run under the Ten Commandments, and in twenty years of fighting has managed to break all of these commandments. They are most famous for recruiting child soldiers, and routinely hacking off the limbs of those who are alleged to have helped the Ugandan army ) He said he could tell this because they were all shabbily dressed. When he wound down his window to talk to them the stench was horrendous, they all live in the bush, never wash and eat plenty of raw meat. When they were distracted for a moment he floored the accelerator and as they drove off the soldiers began firing at him. One bullet grazed his head (he showed us the scar) and another hit him in the shoulder. He managed to get away without any further injury. When they arrived at the camp the English tourist insist that he fly back to Kampala immediately, and then got on to a plane to England and has never returned to Uganda. The driver spent a couple of months is hospital, fearful that he would never be able to use his arm again, but he eventually recovered. The second time was when he was driving in Kampala, and stopped at a traffic light. A woman with a gun jumped in the back seat and told him to drive or she would shoot. He drove for a couple of hours out of Kampala, and then the car ran out of fuel before they had reached their destination. The woman directed him to a fuel station, and when she stepped out, he switched on the reserve tank she didn't know about, and floored the car to make another getaway.
Naturally both Damo and I were quite impressed, but both his passengers had become very quiet and had become a little more pale than they originally had been. The driver noticed the looks of fear and reassured them, "But all that was a couple of years ago, things are much safer now !!!"

We reached the river just in time to wander down to the bank and jump aboard the tour boat that ran up the river to the falls. Despite the boat being full with a little pleading we were let on, and secured a space on the roof. The boat filled up, and then we set off and crossed the river and picked up even more tourists - a large group of Texans, with accents as broad as a Stetson's rim, who all headed straight up on top of the boat and pulled out their lens envy inducing cameras. Wondering why there was such a big group of Americans in Uganda, things became clear when a Texan explained they all worked in a hospital and had come to Uganda to do some voluntary medical work - which sounds all hunky dory. My interest was pricked though when I noticed one of the women had a t-shirt on with a large red stain in the middle of it behind the words "I have been saved by just one drop of the blood of Jesus".

Each time the boat slowed as we drew close to some hippos or crocs, it would lean to one side almost tipping as everybody moved towards the edge to get a better look - or better photo, of the nearby hippos, crocs, gazelle or birds. Between spotting lots of hippos frolicking in the shallows, and a few crocodiles sunning themselves on the bank, we got talking to one of the doctors who explained that this was his seventh trip to Uganda. They came here at the invitation of a Ugandan who had been in Texas, and went around performing surgery in the makeshift theatres they set up in churches in small towns. (Apparently hernias and goitres caused by over work and poor diet and lack of iodine are the main problems)

After two hours in the hot sun the boat eventually reached the falls, and from a safe distance of a couple of hundred metres we saw the Nile squeezed in to a gap in narrow canyon about seven metres wide. The water thundered through, bouncing around and throwing spray up in the air, the pool below was constantly churning, and the boat had to fight hard against the current to maintain its position. The return journey was a much more sedate affair, the boat riding the current, and their being little interest in the animals that had already been spotted on the journey up river.

The next morning at camp, Damo in his inimitable way managed to chat up a group of Americans who had a car and were heading out of the Park that morning. They agreed to take us along, and we didn't hesitate to join them. As we motored along we got to talking and discovered that they were a group of vets, and a couple of vet science students - as Damo aptly named them - Vets for Jesus, curiously all female. They had come out to Uganda to work on a program run by an American vet, who helped some local pastoralists improve their animal welfare work. One of the vets explained that they went around to different villages, treated some animals, gave talks about animal welfare, and shared the word of Jesus - though it wasn't made clear whether that was with the animals or the pastoralists I got the general idea.

Later, in a conversation between themselves, the most senior vet explained that the woman who ran the project had gone to bible college for a year, and then had tested her missionary zeal in the States before coming to Uganda. Without missing a beat she said "Here parents haven't been saved, so they couldn't participate, but she bore witness to them..." I wanted to pipe up and ask about a million questions about being saved, but everybody else seemed to understand what being saved meant, and I didn't want to jeopardise our free ride. Later the younger vet students were talking amongst themselves about the names they would get when they were married - despite a couple not liking there new names there was no suggestion that they wouldn't take them on.

As we drove along my mind was ticking away, wondering at how scientifically well educated people can swallow all that stuff about being saved and Jesus' blood. Sure you can believe in a higher power - call her what you like, but how do Evangelical vets deal with evolution, or the pretty obvious scientific impossibilities of all those miracles required to save people. And further, what kind of whacko religion separates the saved from the um unsaved ? Does that mean people like me, probably beyond saving, miss out on all the fun and games that are no doubt going on in the Evangelical heaven ?

And beyond all that whackiness is the strange spreading the Word idea. Most missionaries seem to miss that historical context in which they are operating - the whole opening up of Africa to bring salvation. Sure they are doing good things, and are full of good intentions - but is that enough - isn't the road to hell paved with good intentions ? One wonders what the locals who see those of themselves who have converted to Christianity, and are therefore helped by missionaries, think. Do they consider trading in their own culture and beliefs to get the benefits of the missionaries ? In a world were tradition is constantly under threat, should Christianity be sticking its nose in. And if the answer is yes, shouldn't it be done in a more non partisan way - without dragging religion in to the whole bargain.

In the end, the missionaries are the side of religion that causes me the most difficulty - they waltz about saying I have the right answer, and the way you do things now is wrong. If you join me then you will be rewarded and if not you will be condemned. Who really wants to join a club like that ?