Time is Relative

Ugandan time is different from American time. Dr. Hepner described the attitude here well when she said to me, “In Africa, you are never late as long as you get there.”

American time runs a race, while Ugan

dan time takes a stroll in the park.

It took me a full week of work at the TAKS Art Center to appreciate how easygoing the people of Gulu are.

As a nervous American girl, I made certain to arrive at work fifteen minutes early each day.

At home in the U.S., this is expected. But at TAKS, the staff think I’m insane when I come so early.

The more time I spend here, the more mellow I become. Ugandans have an amazing ability to absorb my stress and leave happiness behind.

The laid-back approach to life rubs off on me like glitter, and I return to the hotel each day from work scintillating.

I want to bottle up this sparkle and take it back with me to ease the overwhelming pressures of academic life.

TAKS has been without power for the past month, but you wouldn’t notice if you paid it a visit. The center operates as though nothing is wrong: they have no choice.

The sweet staff are the most optimistic group of people I have ever had the pleasure to

work with.

David Odwar, the founder of TAKS, is a brilliant ceramicist casually referred to as “Big Boss” by the staff. His pots are incredible, but his genius shows when he brainstorms.

If you present David with a problem, big or small, the deafening sound of his neurons clicking and whirring almost drowns out his voice as he thinks aloud, spitting out solutions faster than a mathematical genius doing multiplication tables.

Stella is the soft-spoken receptionist whose voice sounds sweet and slow like honey dripping from a spoon. She is a skilled jewelry-maker and is patiently teaching me how to roll paper beads.

Pascal runs the art gallery and has the most infectious smile I have ever seen. This small but charming song-writer knows eleven languages and leaves a big impression with his music.

Amos in the computer department has a face shaped like a heart and a heart the size

of Jupiter. He remains smiling even though the lack of power at the center has cost him money and work.

Bubbly Joyce, the artist in charge of the kitchen, is a crate of dynamite. This dazzling dancer sings Christmas songs year-round.

Stephen, the goofy day guard, chatters like an excited squirrel and tells funny stories all day long.

William is the stoic gardener who says little but smiles and waves when I get there every morning.

I still arrive at work early each day, but the habit no longer stems from fear of being fired. I c

ome early because I desperately want to maximize my time at TAKS that is flying by far too fast.

The TAKS Art Centre where I worked my internship provides the community of Gulu with art, internet access, encouragement and space; it is a well-equipped creative haven for artists of all sorts.

Joyce at the TAKS Center smiles as she makes a beaded curtain for the kitchen.

Recycled paper beads made by local women are sold at the TAKS Center art gallery.

Traditional dancers welcome the return of the Acholi paramount chief.

A crowd of children lead the parade as the paramount chief arrived at Ker Kwaro Acholi.

The Gulu rugby team played hard and defeated Lira on Saturday.

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Bicycle-commuters like this woman are common on the streets of Gulu. There are more bicycles and motorbikes than cars, as they are smaller and easier to maneuver through the crowds of people walking on the street.