You’re Welcome!
The first time our “Hello” was met with the customary Ugandan return greeting of “You’re Welcome”, we were a little confused. Had they misheard us? Had they thought we’d said “thank you”? Neither. These beautiful, gentle people, whose welcoming hospitality is as immense as their wide toothy grins, make it their priority to make us feel welcome in their country and in their homes. Despite their lack of resources and often difficult lives, they are happy and content, concentrating more on what they have than what they lack. It’s a shame our own lives, that major on convenience, luxury and acquiring an abundance, seem to cause us discontent rather than propelling us towards gratitude and contentedness; causing us to be appreciative of the endless resources at our fingertips.
We woke to the beautiful sight of the mountain behind our hotel shrouded in clouds and Molly informing us that today was actually her 22 and a half birthday. We had time for a quick breakfast before being picked up by the ever-jolly Alfred, our Childfund driver. The buffet brekky was almost a carbon copy of every other hotel breakfast we’d had since being in Uganda but this one had an added bonus. A selection from the tower of delectable pastries and cakes would have been the perfect choice with which to break our fast, had it not been for one thing…it was absolutely swarming with flies. My futile attempts at shooing away the pesky winged creatures was garnering disapproving looks from my fellow diners who seemed to have no qualms at all regarding piling their plates with the infested goodies.
Child protection being such an important issue here in Uganda, it was necessary for us to have a further briefing on how we were to relate to Umar. We were introduced to the Childfund team: Moses, Lawrence and Kate (who I thought was named “Kit” on account of her thick African accent.) They gave us the rundown before we piled into 2 cars and bounced through banana trees, coffee plantations and corn fields, along the undulating red dirt road, to arrive at Namalogo Primary School, where Umar is a pupil. Attracting more attention than we were expecting, our pale skin somewhat of a novelty to these kids, we were ushered into the Principal’s office. Introduced simply as The Principal, this warm man, in a funky shirt that Ross was trying hard not to covet, welcomed us with a groovy secret handshake and invited us to sign the visitor’s book.
He explained that at Namalogo, there are 19 teachers to 925 kids! Most classes have over 60 pupils in them, making marking schoolwork and homework almost prohibitive. With a variety of subjects, including English, their local language Lumasaba, Social Studies, Maths, Handicrafts, Religious Studies (either Muslim or Christian, depending on the family’s persuasion) and Sport, the kids get a well-rounded education between the hours of 8am to 5pm. He showed us some work books and readers provided by the Ugandan Government in the Lumisaba language, explaining that while English is still the official language of Uganda, the local tribal tongues are very close to their hearts; vital to preserve.
Once a year we are sent an updated photo of little Umar, along with his school report and info about his family. Lawrence was worrying us, telling us we’d have to identify Umar, differentiating him from his 60 classmates. When we were visibly rattled, he said, “OK, we’ll narrow it down and you can pick him from a lineup of 5 kids.” Yikes! We should’ve taken more notice of those annual snaps. I was terrified we’d get it wrong and insult the poor kid.
Following Lawrence and Kit-Kate, the 6 of us filed into Umar’s classroom to a superstar welcome of singing, cheering and general unbridled enthusiasm. The sea of curious faces was looking us over with scrutinising eyes, trying to fathom our foreign appearance. The teacher shook our hands before an awkward silence descended on the room. I was scanning every face, searching for a glimmer of recognition, feeling like the chicken in “Are You My Mother?” Lawrence left us hanging, milking his joke for all it was worth, before asking: “Could the real Umar please stand up?” Phew. Looking a little overwhelmed, this gorgeous boy with the wide, white grin followed us out to the playground. We shook his hand and he responded with the same secret handshake his Principal had employed. Must be the Namalogo School special. The school was right next door to a tiny mosque, whose booming call to prayer defied its size and echoed through the school yard.
Eleven year-old Umar, who was only a little guy and quite shy at first, came with us to the Childfund field office for yet another briefing. To say this field office was off the beaten track would be an understatement. It was in the sticks. Dodging goats, cows and crowing roosters, we joined the banana-toting boda-bodas to rattle to our mountainous destination. The modest, stand-alone office was right next to a school that happened to be out on lunch break. A couple of carloads of muzungus in their neck of the woods was enough to cause mass hysteria. Jumping up and down, yelling “Muzungus,” at the tops of their voices, these little orange-uniformed Ugandans crowded around the cars as we stepped out. Ross caused the biggest stir of all, standing atop the steps, holding his camera up for an all-in selfie. The adoring crowd was going crazy! Now he knows how Justin Bieber feels.
Kit-Kate gave us some more statistics, revealing that Childfund supports 500 children out of this small field office alone, with many other similar offices all over the country. Like Watoto, they provide families with education and business training, including a small start-up capital to get them launched. Their focus is on children, hence the name, and they aim to empower children by including them in decision-making, allowing them seats on the council. Parenting education is also a major focus. It was great to be encouraged by all the great work going on and to see how our sponsorship is really making a tangible difference in Umar’s life.
Eventually Umar’s mother Rosemary and father Habbet arrived, along with his older sister, Haffa. They were SO lovely and we were completely humbled by their appreciation of our support. Rosemary and Haffa knelt on the ground as they affectionately grabbed our hands and the tears in their eyes made me choke up too. There was a communication barrier so Kit-Kate had agreed to translate. The problem was, they would talk for ten minutes, everyone laughing and reacting to what was said and Kit-Kate would summarise, giving us a couple of brief sentences. We got the gist though so that’s the main thing. I was very excited and keen to give Umar the gifts we had brought from Australia, asking Lawrence whenever there was a lull in the proceedings whether it was time. After what seemed like ages, he finally relented and we presented Umar with his gifts. His favourite by a mile was the soccer ball which he clung to like his life depended on it. Ross and Tobes had a kick around with him and he warmed up to us, laughing and enjoying our company. He’s such a champion.
After all our gift giving, Rosemary, who continued to shower us with double-sided hugs, announced that she too had a gift to give. Ducking out to the back room, she emerged with a beautiful handmade handbag for me. I was so touched by her kindness and tried to hold back the tears. We shared an afternoon tea of mystery flavoured muffins, apples, bananas, Coke and Fanta before an emotional farewell. Umar accompanied us back to Mbale where we parted so he could return to his lessons and we could brace ourselves for the long journey back to Kampala to be reunited with our team. It was so great to meet little Umar and we feel so privileged to have been able to do so.
