I have seen Rwanda’s President, Paul Kagame write about the need for more equitable distribution of Covid vaccines to the Global South (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/feb/07/africans-covid-vaccinations-pandemic-paul-kagame.) Before that I saw Ugandan leader, Winnie Byanyima state a similar argument (https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2021/jan/29/a-global-vaccine-apartheid-is-unfolding-peoples-lives-must-come-before-profit.) I have watched the forces of nationalism the last few years speak against global partnerships. I am an old missionary. I also had the privilege to grow up around World War Two veterans. When I got to Uganda, I realized that those veterans exist in many nations. They always avoided being labeled “heroes.” Yet, their fruit blessed many of us. I am unwilling to squander the fruit of sacrifices made 80 years ago. Covid is a global problem and like our old veterans merits a global response. Let me explain.
My uncles and their peers defeated evil regimes. Most of them never spoke about the war. They
seemed to talk just a little bit more as they got old. As I became an adult and started digging and reading sometimes, I would be astounded to connect the dots and realize men who I considered to be rather ordinary had done heroic things in their youth.
In my small childhood imagination, I could conceptualize my uncles battling the Germans or Japanese. As a high school and college student I could conceptualize that my uncles had allies from other nations. Yet, it was not until 1993 when I was 26 years old that I got a glimpse of the global nature of World War Two, and humbly realized the magnitude of my uncles’ struggle.
I noticed in a Ugandan tourist brochure information about a World War Two cemetery in Jinja, Uganda near the Source of the Nile. We on occasion would get away from busy, Kampala for a day in Jinja. My grandma Jenkins instilled in me the habit of visiting our family cemetery in Elmore, Minnesota and honoring our family veterans. I had to see the Jinja World War Two Cemetery.
For more information on the Jinja, Uganda World War Cemetery see https://www.monitor.co.ug/uganda/lifestyle/reviews-profiles/world-war-cemeteries-well-kept-pieces-of-england-in-foreign-lands-1523846
and https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/jinja-war-cemetery
I remember walking into and starting to notice the dates on the gravestones. Ugandan soldiers had
died serving in the King’s African Rifles with our British Allies in 1940 and 1941. Many of the dates of death were before December 7, 1941 when the first American casualties began. I was stunned. Ugandan young men had been aware of the war, enlisted, and died before the war came to America. I did some research and found that those soldiers had served in Ethiopia against the Italians and in Burma against the Japanese.
For more information on Uganda's involvement in World War Two see https://www.monitor.co.ug/uganda/magazines/people-power/when-uganda-fought-alongside-the-british-during-world-war-ii-1675598
and http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/09/15/ugandan.ww2.veteran/index.html
and https://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/uganda/army-history-1.htm
During our early years in Uganda, I continued to find that Uganda had been shaped by World War Two veterans just like my American childhood. Most of the Ugandan veterans would describe themselves as “simple young men from the village” prior to the war. In many ways like the American veterans, I knew who would describe themselves as “just a farm kid from Minnesota or Iowa.” After the war they all returned different men. It was remarkable what the veterans had become. In Uganda they were more cosmopolitan. They also had tasted life not as a subject of an Empire, but as a liberator. Independence came in African nations from their colonial rulers partly because of the World War Two veterans. Occasionally, I became aware of a Ugandan veteran. I cannot at this time remember a long conversation with one, but their names and stories just popped up repeatedly in Uganda’s post-colonial experience.
As my missionary career developed, I came to realize that the harvest we experienced did not happen in
a vacuum. We American missionaries came to the Global South on the backs of World War Two veterans. Their ideals stirred liberty around the globe. New nations were formed. Also, the terror of war had made almost all veterans resolved to build a world of peace. Every World War Two veteran I knew (whether American or African) was a faithful husband and father. Most were consistent in church. Those that were a bit lax in church attendance still honored those of faith and made sure to show up when their presence was needed. All the veterans I knew were builders. It was practical in making their farms more efficient and modern. It was practical in manufacturing. It was practical in construction. They believed in institutions and infrastructure. They built businesses, churches, schools, parks, and roads. They were active locally in all sorts of community organizations. A few of those veterans never left their global concern. They were the drivers to a missionary surge after the war. They were also the drivers to global partnerships that kept peace such as their nations’ foreign service and international organization such as NATO, the UN, the World Health Organization, and the World Bank. Yes, the world they tried to lead had problems in Korea, Vietnam, and the Cold War; but no generation that followed them ever had to fight in a global conflict. Their global vision wiped out small pox, and greatly minimized the effects of measles and polio.
When I would walk into a government office in Africa all the moral authority of American veterans walked in with me. I was not a diplomat, but the moral authority of diplomatic organizations followed me. Frankly, sometimes I got visas processed just because I had an American passport and America was respected.
The Second World War was a shared global experience. It affected all who were part of Allied nations for generations. When we built churches and schools in Africa the moral authority of African veterans called their nations to be builders too. There were such common values among Allied veterans whether American, British, Ugandan, or Kenyan. I never could have dreamed that a season would come where new generations in Western nations would forget those sacrifices and shared values and institutions.
The forgetting is now happening every time a rant is made about “My nation first.” The economists and medical people all are trying to explain that we live globally. The world is on the move. Almost nothing remains local. Generations ago, the Ethiopian highlands, the beaches of Normandy, the skies above Britain, markets in Nanking, and the jungles of Burma were all connected. Today, the world is more so connected. The outbreaks in China, Italy, Sweden, New York, and North Dakota are all connected. Where one suffers all suffer. Risks that affect one affect all. If we do not solve the global problem of Covid-19 this virus will continue to haunt us. We cannot close our eyes to Coronavirus as some did in the 1930’s as Fascism swept Europe and Asia. We must not forget what our veterans told us repeatedly.
One of the greatest joys I noticed among the veterans I knew was their grandchildren. As the
generations have passed most of the veterans I knew are no longer on this earth. I imagine they look down from heaven and smile at their great and great great grandchildren. I imagine they also join in song with their allied veterans in praise. If in heaven we still use the languages of earth I imagine our veteran forefathers now conceptualize the joys of languages, they heard in the hurry of conflict. I imagine our veterans also enjoy sharing stories about what life became. The tragedy I cannot imagine is the tragedy if the forces of nationalism so weaken global institutions and partnerships that our allied veterans in heaven see former allied nations denied Covid vaccines. From my perspective that is a betrayal of all the veterans’ sacrifice.
Today, I ask that you resist the cries of nationalism that claim, “My country first.” That has always been a failed mantra of failed leaders in failed nations. Please remember the global nature of our faith, our shared humanity across borders, and the ideals of generations before us who sacrificed for long lasting peace. So, help us God.
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