A day in the field

I wake at 5:30 this morning to the sounds of rain. Heavy rain on the thatched roof of my hut. I also awake to the rhythmic drip of rain on the tile floor. Yesterday’s single leak has turned into multiple drips so I empty my small plastic garbage can, borrow J’s garbage can and set the buckets out. The rain in the plastics buckets creates a sound that is almost musical. I realize that other than my computer and camera everything else can dry out if it gets any worse. A single drip falls on my bed, so I push the bed a few inches over and hope for the best.

Yesterday was a day out in the community. I let myself feel the poverty as we pass through villages and single homes. Most are made of dirt and sticks, but some have been plastered and a few larger “fancy” houses are interspersed. The people stand outside the homes, the kids who don’t attend school due to funds wander the roadways or are busy carrying water (a daily task) to their homes. The landscape is stunning. If you have not been here, this part of Africa is much more like what we think when we conjure images of the Congo than the African plains we have in our heads. Hills that are a bit steeper than I would describe as rolling, deep brown earth mixed with rich red earth, lush greenery everywhere you look and crater lakes (58 in all I believe) that pop up around many corners in the road.

We visit schools today. The first is a rugged stick and mud school that is the nearest to KIDA. Moses our driver is unsure the van can make it down the narrow ravine-like path to the school but we preserver and make it safely down the road. Over 100 children come running toward the van as we pull in. There are 3 buildings, each with 2- 3 classrooms. There are chalkboards on the walls – each with an English lesson on it. We gather the OVC kids of which there are many and pass out pencils and erasers and sharpeners. They are so grateful, and we can even get them to smile for photos. I notice two of the older girls looking at J, poking each other and giggling. It seems that continents know no difference when it comes to teen-aged girls and cute teen-aged boys. We meet Alex, a 3rd

OVC kids at the school closest to KIDA

grade teacher. Alex was an OVC kid who was born HIV+. Both his parents died and he was raised by a grandmother. He was supported through KIDA starting at P5 and says it is only because of KIDA that he is a teacher now. As are all here he is incredibly grateful for the support we have given.

All in all we visit 4 schools. At one of the schools the father of one of the families I help hands me a bag of avocados from their land. The avocados are literally the size of two oranges each. He has given us 9 of them. The fact that these families want to share what amounts to their sustenance with us is almost impossible to fathom. The children all curtsy or do a half kneel in reverence and thanks when we share pencils and items with them. They always curtsy to Marjorie and many to us as we share with them. I learn that in addition to school fees they must buy their books, mathematical kits, pens and bags and notebooks. Most of their uniforms have missing buttons or seem a size too small.

We stop on the road at a small crafts store. The store is run by a woman and the sign says, “Women Empowering Group No. 1”. I decide this is where I will buy my gifts for people at home. Beautiful carvings, drums, jewelry a hat all seem to end up in my bag. J has picked out 8 leather bracelets with Uganda on them for friends and adds one that says Kenya “because that is where the fast runners are from”. I notice he immediately puts them one. I am happy he has chosen these as gifts. He also picks out a small African knife for his little weapon-loving brother. This will stay in my room until he gets a little older but for those who know him this will be an unbelievable treat.

We also visit a family who is supported by one of our major donors. Midias the mother has been HIV+ for many years. She greets us with an enormous hug and smile. Her oldest Justine, who we will see graduate on Friday as the first girl to go through carpentry and bricklaying, also gives us all (including J) a huge hug. Last time we were here Justine was quiet and sullen. This trip her smile radiates. They have a small house and a small store where we buy drinks from them to give to some of the other children. Midias joins us as we go to the school where the younger four children are going. They too greet us with enormous bear hugs and smiles.

As we get back on the road Marjorie has Moses pull the van over into a small field that has a closed coffee factory at the far end. We are unsure why, but we get out and start hiking. A woman named Betty leads us down a small path. I later learn Betty is a community health care worker who volunteers at KIDA once a week. In addition to volunteering she walks 9km each way to do this work. We head down a path that gets narrower and narrower and I start to think that we are possibly the only white people who have been on this path. We pass several houses which makes me realize how much we do not see as we stick to the roads. Marjorie shares that when she used to live in this community, they would hide in this “jungle” which was much thicker then. At the time rebels were traveling through from the Ruwenzori mountains to the Kibale forest. Nearly 3000 of the church members would hide and sleep in the brush whether it was raining or not in order to stay safe from them. I tell myself to ask more about this when Marjorie has time.

The path becomes non-existent as we begin to travel down a very steep hill. We learn that we are going to see the land that a generous donor has bought for Midias and her family. The land is lush with cassava (for millet), pumpkins, matoke trees, coffee trees and as they take us further down the ravine we discover that they are taking us to see a cocoa tree. This is nearly 13 acres of land that will sustain Midias’ family for years to come. They want to give us a pumpkin but have discovered the pumpkins have been stolen so they give us a large unripe one as thanks. As we head back up the steep non-path, we find we are covered with hundreds of small stick-like stickers. They are everywhere on our clothing and shoes but come off fairly easily with some picking. The locals tell us that these are our “African friends” and are humored to know we call them stickers, the same as a sticker with which a child would be entertained. We drive Midias back home and they rush into the house to bring us a pallet full of eggs as thanks. Again, these people who have so little and depend on their land and animals to eat have given a piece back to us. It is hard to comprehend why they would do this, but we accept graciously. The eggs and the avocadoes will go to Joseph at the kitchen and we will be able to eat them while we are here.

We arrive back at KIDA to unload and I discover my basket-making friends sitting on the lawn. They have spent all year making baskets for our return. Brian picks out a few for family and friends. I take the rest. 45 in all to split among Debbie and FoRF and myself. The baskets are stunning and I wish I had a room to display them all at home.

They are many more stories that I have not told from previous days. The slower pace this trip and the rain has allowed for more leisurely conversation with Ezra and we are learning much more about Ugandan culture. As the rains seems to have stopped the sounds down the valley pick up. We will head down the hill to do some more filming, give the sewing master some supplies we have brought and continue to share baby clothes with new mothers. It is hard to believe a week from today we will head back to Kampala to begin our journey home.