• Image Credits
• Kristin's personal photos from Displace Me.

Invisible Children

It started with a Movie...that sparked a Movement...to change Culture, Policy, & Lives.

You may remember the group "Invisible Children" coming to SSLH back in March to screen the documentary about the war in Uganda. Only about 100 UCI students attended the screening that night, however, the film greatly inspired each of those 100, including myself.

Three college students, Jason Russell, Bobby Bailey, and Laren Pole, traveled to Northern Uganda in 2003 to document the lives of people living in a violent and devastating war. However, the film took a sharp turn when they came to the center of the capital one night and found hundreds of children sleeping in the streets. The children were not orphans, they were sleeping there for safety. As Russell, Bailey, and Pole began interviewing the children, they discovered that the children were there to hide from the rebel army: Lord's Resistance Army a.k.a. LRA. The LRA kidnaps children from their homes as a form of recruitment. The children are tortured and told to kill or be killed. They are brainwashed by fear and violence. If they have the chance to escape, they usually do. Yet, most come back with memories that scar them for life. However, their resilience is beyond inspiring, beyond words; it uplifts the heart into your throat and you cannot help but think: "If they can do that, there must be something that I can do for them."

"Invisible Children" now tours the country, visiting mainly college campuses and high schools to call for some recruitment of their own. Students much like you and me. After watching the film, I felt moved to tears. I wanted to do more, and the greatest part was, I could. The same three students who shot the documentary have made it their lives' work to end the war in Uganda and help save its children. So, they have created several ways to get involved. Some are easy, like donating money at their website: www.invisiblechildren.com. Or buying t-shirts, bracelets (handmade by people in Uganda), stickers, or the twin DVD sets (one for you and one for a friend to pass on). Some take a little more effort, like doing the Global Night Commute, donating $3 per week, or donating materials to the schools in Uganda.

After buying the twin DVD set and some bracelets, my two roommates and I still felt that our participation was, in a word, unsatisfactory. Considering that we had just bought our goodies from a boy, who was 19, and a girl, who was 20, two people who should have been at school, like us, but instead made the choice to commit their valuable time to the Invisible Children campaign, our souvenirs seemed trifle.

When we arrived at our apartment, we all immediately got online and began looking at the different opportunities to help. Donating $3 a week was a bit out of our leagues, but then "Displace Me" rolled across the top of the screen. Clicking on it, we found that on April 28, thousands of people would be driving to the nearest park, stadium, or even capitol building, in the case of Washington, D.C., to participate in an overnight campout that simulated what it was like to be in a Ugandan refugee camp. Although it was hardly the same as living the way Ugandans did everyday, we felt it was worth it and agreed to go together.

April 28: My two roommates and I arrived at the "Displace Me" Los Angeles camp hosted by the Pomona Fairgrounds. We brought with us three bottles of water, 3 boxes of saltines, and a couple of cardboard boxes scrounged from Costco bins and Ralph's produce section. Walking into the fairgrounds, the scene could only be described as joyful, peaceful chaos. Three 19-year-old boys greeted us with cameras and more energy than Richard Simmons. They asked us our names and took pictures of us before leading us into the tunnel that led to the main fairgrounds. Once inside, we saw that hundreds of students, teachers, and more had already arrived and made camp. Makeshift cardboard huts were overlapping each other and decorated with brightly colored phrases such as "Every war has an end," "Give Peace a Chance," and "We are a Movement of Everyday Heroes." People lay under their huts to shield the descending sun as they talked, laughed, and played their guitars.

As soon as we had put our small hut together, a young man's voice came over the loudspeakers: "Alright, so the sun is starting to set and this isn't just about your experience, this is to help the movement...you READY?!" Cheers erupted from several parts of the camp. Soon everyone was standing up and walking, if not running or skipping, towards the main field. The memory of the documentary still burned in the minds of many and physically moved us toward the field. The same voice directed us for over an hour as two cameramen filmed hundreds of us running, putting up peace signs, and finally ended with crowd-surfing a small boy as he held a sign that read "Every War Has an End." By the end, the sun had set, and it was time for the night festivities to begin. This, I realized, was not going to be a night for sleeping. Luckily, I did not want to.

The night began with speakers on the main stage. Lit by huge, round glowing lights that seemed to float in the sky, the first speaker walked to the center of the stage. Jason Russell spoke about his journey, the people he had met, and that they were the reason he was speaking before us. "Yet," he said, "I would have never begun had I not read the inspirational journals of a young man who died trying to write about the very same things I am fighting for today." The young man, a journalist who died at 24, had written about the war in Uganda a few years before Russell, Bailey, and Pole had traveled there themselves. They say he was their inspiration; their desire to make something better of themselves. And that night, in the Los Angeles arena, that young man's mother came to speak to us. Though she was a small woman, I could see where her son had gotten his strength and inspirational voice. She spoke with such poise and passion that, once again, my roommates and I were moved to tears. After an uproarious cheer from the crowd, two more speakers, one an activist actor and the other, the former African relations officer to the Clinton administration, spoke before us providing us with encouragement and impassioning us to further action.

After the speakers, Russell approached the stage again. He was on the phone with Laren Pole in Washington, D.C. where three times the number of "Displace Me" members gathered in far worse weather conditions: rain and 30 degree cold. Yet, none were about to leave. Russell held the phone up to the microphone as Pole described the scene before him: "Hundreds of people are only sheltered by thin cardboard boxes and are sleeping on hard concrete, yet they are happy, cheering, shouting, and joyous to be on the grounds of our capital, fighting for a cause." Pole had to hang up to keep things moving in D.C., and after good-byes, Russell introduced the next video.

On a huge white screen in front of us, Laura Bush spoke about her husband's desire to help. For a primarily anti-current administration voter like myself, the video was unexpectedly sincere. Again, I felt moved; this time not to tears, but to action. Soon, another video appeared on the screen from Russell, Bailey, and Pole. This time, they had filmed more Ugandans whom they had befriended on their various trips to the country. However, it was not interviews. Instead, the people who were filmed spoke directly to us. They spoke about what it was like to live in the country; in particular, how difficult it was to get water, food, shelter, and safety each night. To simulate their daily struggles, they instructed us to get our water and saltines, our only food for that night, in a specific fashion. Only girls could get water and only boys could get saltines. It would simulate the sexist chores in food gathering in Uganda. Seeing as we were a group of three girls, we had to find boys to get our dinner. Soon, we were talking to several people. We began offering our waters to trade for saltines, but many boys just gave us the crackers out of generosity. The videos and speakers had inspired more than just me, and generous cracker rations were not the only indication. As the night wore on, people began offering blankets, more waters, and making efforts to meet others. No one needed to say the words "good will towards others," peace came naturally that night.

Eating ceased after about 20 minutes; everyone could only eat so many saltines. There was then 19 minutes of silence; one minute for each year that war had raged in Uganda. It felt incredibly short with all there was to think about, and soon the loud speaker rang out again. This time, they instructed us to gather paper and booklets from the surrounding tables and write letters to the president of Uganda to stop the war there and write our senators to urge them to make policies here. After we finished, we were allowed to do anything we wanted, though most played music about peace including a resounding conga-line of dancers and singers reprising "Give Peace a Chance."

As we walked back to our cardboard home, my roommates and I observed and listened to the many games and music being played. We were tired but happy and concluded our night with some quiet talk, more pictures, and finally an attempt to sleep.

In the morning, we woke to people gathering boxes and cleaning the surrounding areas. After cleaning our own station, we decided to go home. It was a very anti-climatic ending and it seemed as though we had done nothing at all once the fairgrounds were returned to normal. Yet, months later, I received a package in the mail from "Displace Me." They sent me another DVD with a bracelet, telling me to keep the action, the inspiration, the passion and drive to bring peace to life in Uganda.

Visit www.invisiblechildren.com. Join the movement. Whatever you can do, that is all we ask. If you want to join the movement at UCI, speak to the Muslim Student Union. Keep it going, change something, if not for any other reason, simply because you can.

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