I'm back in Kampala and just had a delicious goat meat barbecue. Most of the others of my group are on the plane to London as we speak, two others are still in the country doing their own thing.
Yesterday was the best day, I finally met my sponsored child, little Sharon. We first visited a World Vision funded borehole in the morning and discussed the benefits of having this compared to getting the water from a stream that is half an hours walk away, which looked disgusting and carries cow poo and typhoid. Fairly obvious benefits, I would say. There is a water users committee, which we met, that is responsible for the upkeep of the water pump and the fence (to keep cattle and children away), that organise the constant supervision of the site and have decided on opening times of 7am - 6.30pm only, charging every user 200 Ugandan shillings (3p) per week. The comittee keep the money in a box so that they can pay for repair work. We visited the old stream where families used to collect water and it really was disgusting! Still, every family can now fetch clean and safe water every day and carry it home in "jerry cans"; yellow canisters that take five, ten or twenty litres. We often see people carry one or two of the big canisters along the road. Sometimes we overtake someone pushing a bike that carries up to six of them! And the journey can take hours. Did I mention that I had hardly slept the night before my visit, and now I could hardly stand still with all the adrenalin?
The new borehole was built last year, and I was thrilled to see this is where my sponsored child, Sharon, gets her water from.
We continued walking along the path, up a grassy hill and towards a primary school down the other side. Here our sponsorship has funded the building and more land, water and toilets for the children and staff, too. As we walked down, suddenly hundreds of children emerged and gathered outside, clapping their hands and chanting "you are welcome, you are welcome!" Then we had a formal meeting with the headmaster and the teaching staff, signed the visitors book and were asked to come outside where they had prepared lots of chairs and benches for us together with the staff and parents. The children had so much energy and put on the loveliest show I'd ever seen.
These little children were singing and dancing for us, in English and in Luganda, accompanied by a collection of drums. Fantastic! As usual, all the kids wanted to shake our hands after that but we had to go soon to walk all the way back to the car. On the way I made friends with some mothers who were on their way up the hill to the church for a meeting. They found my attempts to speak Luganda hilarious - I wonder why?
The married women in Uganda traditionally wear a long dress made of shiny, very colourful fabric with typically pointy shoulders and they look just beautiful.
And then, finally, we were on the way to my Sharon. We picked her up from her nursery school. The poor thing was very shy. Especially after one of her friends took a look at me and disappeared screaming round the corner. Margaret, a field worker knows Sharon and her family well and managed to persuade her to leave the shelter of her classroom and follow us. Finding her older brother to take him with us, too, helped her to feel much happier. What helped the most in the end was a packet of wine gums for us to share.
The drive to Sharon's home led along paths that were never meant to be driven on. Sharon lives with her parents and sister Harriet, 18 months, brother Denis, 3 years, and brother Julius, eight years (yes, just like my son - what a coincidence) in a square mud hut with two rooms. One is the sitting/living/doing-everything-in-room, the other the bedroom. Cooking facilities are outside. There is a small brick shed used for storage. Richard, the father, greeted me with a big smile and his wife even had tears in her eyes. She greeted me the traditional way: kneeling down in front of me and shaking my hand while supporting her right wrist with her left hand. I was used to that by now, but it still makes me feel uncomfortable. Both Sharon's parents look very young. Then a tall thin man with a huge personality descended upon me in the form of Peter, Richards dad. And from then on he took charge of the proceedings. I was asked to sit in the front room first, but only for a few minutes, then everyone squeezed outside again and sat on benches in front of the hut under an awning out of sackcloth.
Peter stood up and held a formal speech, then I stood up and made introductions. I kept talking and told them a lot about me and my family and in return learned that Sharon's family are farmers who grow maize, beans, bananas and peanuts and have a few chickens. They sell their produce at the local market. The land belongs to "Jaja", Peter's mum and Sharon's great-grandmother who lives on her own very close. I had the pleasure of meeting all of them, Jaja was just making her way up the path. She looked splendid in her dress and was so pleased to see me. She thanked me for letting her see a Muzungu (white person) before she died!
It was a lot to take in, but the joy I think we all felt, was immeasurable.
By now the number of people had increased to about twenty plus assorted children. Everyone had a look at the photos of my family that I had brought and Richard got his revenge by taking me through his family album. By now we were getting on like a house on fire. Especially me and Peter, who every two minutes shook my hand and said "thank you very much" in a very serious voice and then nearly collapsed laughing. The kids around us were getting a bit bored so I asked my colleagues Juanita, Allie and Kay to bring the balloons from the car. I didn't expect that it would entertain the whole congregation, not only the kids. Sharon ran off to play with her friends and I was once again surprised how quick a five year-old can move. The crowd had meanwhile increased to about thirty adults. Most of the women had disappeared by now and I was told they were preparing food for the guests. News must have spread because people kept coming from all directions until I counted about fifty. Some more benches were brought for close friends, the rest sat or stood where they found some space.
Food was delicious: rice (specially bought at the market), cassava, a starchy root much like sweet potatoes, and steamed mushy bananas, called 'matoke'. And beef stew as "sauce" as it is called here. And bottled water for all the guests. We ate first, then most of the men were fed. The women disappeared until after we had finished.
After a bit more chatting Margaret told me it was time for the gifts. I had a little present for both parents and the four kids. Unfortunately, I hadn't known about Jaja and Peter and his wife, so I had nothing for them except a pack of Wine gums which Peter shared out between everyone present. Then the good byes began and some group photos were taken. Another formal speach from Peter and me and it was time to go! Leaving these people was very emotional and I think they were a bit sad to see me go, too. Anyway, the party was still in full swing when we drove off, and we passed a few people on their way to join the festivities. What a day!
