Family Matters
With a later start time on our agenda today, our team enjoyed a late breakfast and a leisurely morning. There was something entirely new under the breakfast closh today. This never before seen UFO (unidentified food object) was a faded greyish purple colour and looked less than appetising that’s for sure. It resembled meat that had had the life boiled out of it. Maisy lifted the lid to check it out and Fred asked her if she was going to give the monkey brains a try today. As my horrified daughter shut that lid with great gusto, he chuckled out load and confessed they were only yams.
Jeanette and Peter were excited to be meeting their sponsor child, Rose, who was being delivered to our hotel at 9am. In true African style, Rose arrived fresh from boarding school at 10:30am and warm embraces, gift-giving and excitement ensued. Our destination for the day was Laminadera, about an hour away by bus. Someone on our bus enquired of our guide Stephen, “has the road to Laminadera been paved yet?”
“Oh no, bumpy, bumpy!” Stephen replied (with actions). He wasn’t wrong. Driving along this “road”- nothing more than a dirt track – was like trying to negotiate the Big Dipper in a billycart. We were getting some serious air as we launched ourselves out of ditches and persevered through undulating potholes with bone-rattling bumps, dodging a plethora of motorbikes and cargo-carrying pushbikes along the way. Though the traffic is heavy in Uganda and the side of the road you drive on tends to be optional and dependant on what obstacle is coming the other way, everyone seems very courteous, a friendly toot every now and then to signal your intentions, all you need. Drivers are patient and forgiving, even when there’s a close shave (& we’ve certainly seen a few!).
Laminadera is a Watoto-run village where children are placed in homes with mothers to form little families. This is where the babies from the orphanage go once they turn three. The women each have 8 children in their care and are provided with a house. The houses form ‘pods’; about 8 houses encircling a large grassy area in the centre where all the kids can play together. Housing 1500 children, the community has a community hall, school and church, with lots of support for the mums and their kids. Our fundraising efforts before we left home had made it possible for us to help out the local community surrounding Watoto. Stuart and Kathy had organised to buy hoes (the garden variety), machetes and knives and more sugar, rice, beans, oil and soap. 20 families from nearby farms and huts were called in to receive their donations. It was heart-warming to see their reactions, with one older lady expressing her gratitude to us in dance. She led the procession, grooving along in slow-mo as they all filed up the aisle to shake our hands and say thanks, triggering somewhat of a dance party. Caught up in their elation, our team joined in the groove, bopping and hip-swinging amongst the colourfully dressed locals. Rachel, Ross and Jeanette deserve a special mention for their dedication to dance, cutting the rug (if there had been one) like there was no tomorrow.
Meanwhile, our resident artists, Kirsty and Josh were sketching a serious little girl who was sitting for them. Not only were they drawing her, they were drawing a crowd, everyone fascinated by their skill. Kirsty showed her little model the finished product (which was incredible by the way) but she seemed largely unmoved. She obligingly signed her name on the portrait, probably overwhelmed at the scrutinising crowd. As we mingled together with the locals, many of whom had handed the large knives and razor-sharp machetes to their toddlers to carry (yikes!) some of them asked us for our possessions. Molly was asked to hand over her watch and Lexi was harassed by some kids to hand over her phone. It seemed harsh since we had already showered them with such generosity but none of us know the desperation of such poverty. It felt quite awkward. One girl pointed to Jeanette’s hot pink rain jacket and boldly asked if she could have it. Jeanette pondered for a split second, removed the tissues from her pockets and said “OK, yes sure”. As she zipped it onto the slightly stunned but extremely grateful recipient, I got a lump in my throat. This girl danced off towards her village, absolutely delighted with her flashy new apparel. Jeanette had acted so purely from love, it was beautiful.
Next, the team split up into groups of three or four and were allocated a family to visit. I went with Toby and Maisy to the house of Brenda and her 8 kids: Deo 17, Moses-16, James-15, Nathan-12, Emanuel-6, Charles and Richard -both 4. Daniel and another Deo were friends staying too.
The house had 3 bedrooms that opened onto a central living and dining area with a small bathroom containing a toilet and a shower with a concrete floor. The boys’ bedrooms had 2 sets of bunks in each and a set of drawers; each boy having his own drawer. In the kitchen was a full barrel of coal and a small coal-powered burner, nestled into a fireplace. There was a sink with running water, only available certain hours of the day, and a small open shelf where plastic plates and cups were stored. Brenda had prepared an enormous feast of traditional African fare for us to share which, given the size of that tiny burner, must’ve taken her a whole day to prepare. There was home made chapatis made with maize flower, beans in a delicious sauce, rice with veggies, chicken stew, beef stew, boiled potatoes and peas, all served in colourful plastic pots that formed a festive line down the centre of the dinner table. With loaded plates we began to get to know this family of 9 but conversation didn’t exactly flow. It was like trying to get blood out of a stone at first, the crickets singing and tumbleweeds rolling by as the pregnant pauses made us squirm in our seats. Toby managed to break the ice by chatting about the English Premier League, the boys suddenly animated; it was like he had flicked a switch. The eldest boy, Deo, was really outgoing and told us his aspirations to be a pilot. He and Maisy had a good chat too.
Before leaving Australia we had been asked to buy gifts for this very occasion. Gifts for the whole family and something the kids could share. I’m embarrassed to say, in my complete cultural ignorance and lack of insight one of the gifts I had purchased was one of the most ridiculous gifts you could ever imagine. For a family with barely any possessions, a concrete floor and no electricity, save a couple of solar lights that only operate for a couple of hours a day, I had gone and bought FRIDGE magnets. How cringeworthy is that!? Here are some glossy Harbour Bridge and Opera House magnets for you to put on your…oh, you don’t have a fridge? I’m clenching my butt just thinking about it. Don’t worry, I left them tucked away in shame in my suitcase.
Thankfully I had been a little more successful with my choice of other gifts and the kids spent the whole afternoon colouring in their new colouring books, playing Connect Four and sticking their Australian flag stickers all over their faces. The bubbles that had been such a dud at the babies home were actually a hit here – must be their smaller mouths – and no one drank a drop of bubble mixture which was a bonus. The soccer ball was by far the most popular offering and Toby joined the boys for a fun, high energy neighbourhood game before the rain came. And come, it did. Sheets of water bombarding the little house were thunderous on the tin roof. As we retired to the couch, it became impossible to have a conversation without shouting. The boys sprung into action, grabbing the washing off the line, placing a bucket under the leak and mopping up the splashes. Kids from other houses joined our house and some of our kids played with their neighbours. There was such a strong community feel. It struck me as I watched them make their own fun, from age 4 to 17, stuck in a cramped room, there was not a screen in sight. How refreshing. Brenda opened up a lot about her life and background and we had a great afternoon.
Ross, Molly and Sam had gone to the house of Jessica and had enjoyed a similarly delicious feast. The 300 piece map of Australia jigsaw puzzle had been a hit and they had completed it twice over the course of the afternoon. Sam had also kicked a ball around with the kids. The rain had formed a veritable lake in the centre of their pod and Ross, Sam and Molly had lots of fun watching the kids laugh and splash in the shallows. Ross waded in, throwing a soccer ball high in the air only to have it splosh down around the giggling kids who tried to catch it.
By far though, the most enlightening of the afternoon visits had been the one for Jeanette and Peter. All had gone swimmingly at their host’s place with their sponsor child Rose in tow, all going swimmingly that is, until Peter suggested they play with the alphabet stamp set they had brought along as a gift. “Let’s write our names with the stamps”, Jeanette suggested. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that sponsor child Rose had reached for a “J” and proceeded to stamp out “Janet” on the paper. Janet? Wasn’t her name Rose? No, apparently this mild-mannered imposter had been the victim of a mistaken identity bungle. It became apparent that another of the girls in the house had stamped out “Rose” on her piece of paper. Upon looking deeply into this girl’s eyes, Jeanette and Peter had a sudden revelation that this girl – not the one dropped to them from boarding school that had been a recipient of their love and gifts and had spent the day with them – this girl, in the house, was their Rose. They recognised her from the picture they had on their fridge, no doubt held in place by a nice glossy fridge magnet. Not entirely sure how on earth Janet had been roped in, they were just pleased to be able to spend some quality time with the real Rose.
Lots of our other team members also got to lunch with children they sponsor and Mandy and Vernon’s sponsor child, 5 year-old Jasmine, hadn’t wanted to leave them, popping herself on the bus and propping herself up next to Mandy. We gave her a ride in the bus and then she navigated us back to her house where we dropped her off.
As we bumped down the rough red road on the way back to Gulu, we had bags of rice to give out to passers by. Pulling over, we’d reach out our hands to deliver a package to these unsuspecting locals. We had to take turns lest multiple bags be thrust out of various windows simultaneously. Stephen was riding shotgun and must have had a secret stash of rice bags because every time someone thought they were up, Stephen would gazump them by getting in first. The excitement of the beneficiaries was incredible, including an elderly lady who was so keen she dropped her walking stick in a puddle as she surged towards her prize. We tried to think of something from our culture that could elicit a response with a similar degree of glee. A bag of chocolate perhaps? Vernon rightly pointed out, the level of suspicion that might accompany someone in Australia, in a bus, pulling over to hand you a big bag of chocolate may just nullify any actual excitement. True.
