Free In the Danger Zone by Stefan Gates

spirits of murder with me.' She is quiet and dignified and tells me she would like to continue her education, but doesn't think her grandmother can afford it.
    At the end of the day I walk back to Gulu with Nancy and Coincy. Nancy sings us two songs – a Ugandan national song and one she learnt at the children's centre. Both are heartbreakingly beautiful.
    As a final gesture, my translator Bitek has suggested that I visit Majo, his mother, in her refugee camp and she can show us her old village. I suggest we take her back there to cook a meal and he agrees.
    I visit Gulu market to buy food and chat to the lovely market ladies again. They are surprised when I tell them that I do all the cooking in my house, and shocked when I reveal that I serve the food to my friends too. 'That's just wrong,' they say. 'Why would you do such a thing?' They laugh at me in peeling cackles that go around the entire market. 'This mazungu serves food to his wife!'
    I buy matoke, more bo, groundnuts, vegetable oil (sold in reused Coke bottles), onions and some potently stinky small fish. We grab charcoal, mats and a couple of cheap saucepans and head for Bitek's mum's house in a small IDP camp 10 km outside Gulu. I am followed, as always, by three truckloads of soldiers laden with all sorts of heavy weaponry. I'm becoming used to this now. Bitek's mum Majo is quiet but friendly, and after we all squeeze into the car, our little charabanc sets off to make an extraordinary Sunday lunch.
    When we arrive at Majo's old village both she and Bitek are visibly distressed at the sight of the ruined huts. 'Everything of mine has been destroyed and I have nothing to come back to. It's all gone,' she explains. She talks about the war, the LRA and her suffering, and I suddenly wonder if I've stepped over the line of bad taste. I ask if bringing her here to cook is inappropriate.
    'No,' she says. 'I hope this will breathe life into my village. Perhaps it's a sign that soon we will come back here.'
    Majo is deeply suspicious of my insistence on helping her cook – she's not really used to this. First we dry-fry some groundnuts and hand them out to the soldiers as a snack. A couple of them burst into laughter. Then Majo shows me how to make aubergine and fish stew. We've been cooking for about half an hour when the commander, Isaac, finally breaks his silence and suggests a slightly different cooking method. It's quite a shock to hear him speak because up until now the soldiers have been a constant but silently aggressive presence, just magically appearing when we drive anywhere. Isaac is a handsome, powerfully built man who carries an aura of importance. It clearly wouldn't be wise to get on the wrong side of him. He has a serious, calm and deliberate voice, and he suggests that we add salt to the frying aubergine. This opens the floodgates, and everyone starts haggling over the recipe – soldiers, Bitek, Isaac, even our driver. The only one who rises above the din is Majo, who calmly carries on cooking.
    Isaac turns out to be intelligent and knowledgeable, and deeply proud of his Acholi tribe's heritage. I start to develop a wary affection for him and even Bitek and Majo seem pleasantly surprised at the interaction – refugees have a difficult relationship with soldiers, whom they see as both protectors and aggressors who prolong the conflict with the LRA.
    The soldiers become openly friendly, and by the time Majo and I have negotiated the heckling and finished cooking, they are grinning in anticipation of a good lunch. We sit down to eat with as many of Isaac's soldiers as can be spared from guard duty, and everyone declares the meal delicious, even Isaac, who says that it's as good as his mother would make.
    Then the most extraordinary thing happens: Majo and Isaac give me and Ruhi Acholi names. Mine is Oriba (Unity) – because Majo says I have brought about a small miracle in bringing together normal villagers, the army, the UN and a small piece of