The day began as we filed out of the Invisible Children Uganda Office into the courtyard that houses the fleet of motorcycles and dirt bikes. There we nervously stood waiting to be paired with our mentor. A few of us were asked to step forward and connect with a mentor. I preferred being paired with a woman over a man, so naturally I walked toward the only woman in the line. Her name was Oyella Betty and I was to follow her for the remainder of the day. I had never been on a motor bike before, so it was quite exciting that my first time would be in northern Uganda! After I connected with Betty she had to attend a short meeting with the other mentors, so I sat in the Invisible Children Office waiting for her return. When Betty came back we had to wait a short while for someone to return with gas for the tank. When the gas had been refilled Betty handed me a red helmet and a dirt-bike coat as well pants to wear for the day. I tried to resist, for the outfit was extremely warm and very large - but she insisted and out of politeness I followed her wishes. As I mounted the bicycle I couldn’t help but smile, the fact that I was there - in Uganda - on a dirt bike - about to venture into the bush to meet with families and students who were being supported by Invisible Children was completely unreal.
The motor started, revving and rumbling under my feet and before I knew it we were off! The springs on the bike ensured that my seat remained level even when we were speeding over pot holes and puddles. The first meeting led us through some villages and out into the country-side. We arrived at a small village and asked around until we found the hut we were looking for. When we arrived a man was working outside and seemed pleased by our arrival. He offered Betty and I a seat - we sat and Betty began to talk. The man had a daughter who was being supported by the Visible Child Scholarship Program, but he was not the person Betty needed to talk to as we soon discovered. The Mother apparently lived further up in the North while the child attended school in Gulu. The Mother was the one Betty wished to speak with since she was much more supportive in the raising of her child than the father. So Betty quickly talked with the father and then asked me if I had any questions. I asked Betty to ask him through translation if he felt lasting peace was possible, his answer left me feeling all but hopeless. He told Betty (who translated to me) that he does not feel lasting peace will ever happen - he feels [the people have been injured by the conflict and even with the rebels in the Congo the people of northern Uganda are filled with anger. The issue of starvation as well as conflicts over land ownership leave the innocent in harms way.] It’s sad. It’s not right, but it’s their reality. As we were driving way I commented to Betty about how I thought he seemed to be a very nice man. She then informed me as we were racing down the road to our next stop that the Father had abandoned the family various times and did not provide any support. I guess there are unsupportive Dads everywhere - but as I’ve learned, the problem is prevalent in Uganda. Betty also told me that he had tested positive for HIV/Aids. Life is hard...
We stopped by a primary school for a visit and Betty met with a boy (I forget his name) for a short time. The head teacher came in after a short while and seemed overjoyed to see Betty. She then greeted me as a smile of delight spread across her face. Betty, the boy, and her continued to talk in Lwo for a short while - Betty then inquired about where to find the mother we were searching for earlier. The head teacher pointed us in the direction of a village a short distance from the school. As we were walking back to the bike the head teacher started to ask me to support her school, because they were in desperate need of help. It was strange for her to think I had the means to completely change her school around. I felt bad that I couldn’t do anything, but Betty tried to explain to her that my friends and I were supporting Keyo Secondary. She still insisted I help, but as we mounted the bike there was nothing more she could say - I was leaving...
Again, the motor started and we were leaving to find the village, the school disappearing from our view. We came upon a small cluster of huts and drove in, slipping and sliding across the uneven ground. As we pulled up 3 women greeted us, ages spanning from young adult to middle aged. One was breast-feeding a young child as 3 other children sat on the ground by her feet playing in the dirt and clothed in rags; but they were all happy and laughing - they had nothing, but they were giggling and far more content than any child I have ever seen in the United States. We’re all so caught up in trying to fill our youth’s hearts with materialistic things, that they miss out on a sense of true love and compassion. Betty asked the women if they knew the woman we were searching for and if they had any idea as to where we could find her. The eldest pointed us up ahead - Betty and I thanked her with a joyful “apoyo” and we turned to get back on the main path. But as we drove away she ran up along path to meet us and again point us in the right direction.
We arrived at the mother’s house only to realize she was not there, but soon after we had taken off our jackets an older woman, strong from work in the field - clothes caked with dust and head covered in a handkerchief ran to greet us, a smile wide across her face; she laughed as she greeted us. We entered her hut and she lay down a reed mat for Betty and I to sit on - while she only sat on a dirt floor. She was a hardworking woman and I could see in her eyes that she had endured many hardships. She and Betty talked for a long while in Lwo and although I did not know what they were saying I could easily tell by the tone and volume of her voice she was conveying her troubles. When their conversation ended, Betty translated and told me the woman’s son had recently been diagnosed with HIV/Aids, but refused to take medication; she feared for his life and rightfully so. This woman did not always have food and because of this as well as many other factors life was extremely difficult; there were even days she would go without eating at all. Betty explained that because the World Food Program had suddenly stopped distributing food people many were finding it difficult to adjust from depending on others to solely depending on themselves and in turn many would go without eating.
It is truly sad.
Many NGO’s and world aid programs are run in this manner and for that reason it is sadly no surprise hunger and poverty remain in our world. For, once these programs leave, people are left with nothing - they lack the supplies, they lack the skills, and the motivation they once had was washed away during the years of empty handouts. It’s a self-reinforcing cycle that will only be stopped when the timeless Chinese Proverb, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” is taken to heart.
The woman asked Betty to ask me why I came to Uganda. She wanted to know why I cared. Through Betty’s translation I explained how I had come to hear about Invisible Children and how my family, friends and I have been working to support Keyo Secondary School (which ironically is the school her daughter attends). I explained how we in America live in a land of great wealth as well as opportunity; because of this it is important we realize how fortunate we are - it is important we give back to those who have less. She replied (through translation), “You people have so much sympathy, we really appreciate it.” I responded (through translation), “We’re all the same. I may live on the other side of the world, but through all our differences we are the same at the core.” She agreed, nodding her head, laughing, because the only difference was the color of our skin and the language we spoke.
As we were finishing our conversation the woman threw her arms up in the air and exclaimed in Lwo that she wanted to give me a token of thanks for visiting her home. I was taken aback, but knew I could not refuse (I didn’t want to seem disrespectful). She ran out to her cornfield and returned with 3 ears of corn - this woman who had so little and at times went without food gave me the greatest gift of all.
When Betty and I were on our way out the woman did not want to fully shake my hand to say goodbye - she feared she would get me dirty. I had Betty explain to her that I did not mind at all and I gave the woman a large hug hoping she would understand how appreciative and grateful I was for the time I had spent with her.
Away we went, my mind racing... thinking about how much my life differed from hers.
As the day continued on we attempted to visit more people, but they weren’t home. Along the drive we stopped by a few markets on the side of the street where Betty bought me 4 mangoes and a piece of broiled corn. Needless to say they were delicious. When we purchased the corn from the women on the side of the road, they all asked Betty to ask me if there was corn in my country. I told them yes. They laughed, saying I looked very young. At another street vendor where we stopped to buy mangoes the men wouldn’t stop staring at me, they shook my hand and asked how I was (these men spoke a little english). “I am well!” I told them, and they all replied, “Good!” The man selling the mangoes gave me one to try before Betty purchased them and even took out a bucket of water for me to wash my hands and the mango with. It was such a nice and considerate thing to do. As I took my first bite they all watched me waiting for the verdict. But they had no need to worry, it was the most delicious mango I had ever tasted in my life - so sweet, so juicy, so natural... When I had finished eating the man returned with the water so that I could wash my hands. I was struck by their kindness and generosity. As Betty and I drove away on her dirt bike their smiles followed us.
Driving down the street on our way back to Gulu children lined the side of the road as they walked home for lunch. Shouts and waves erupted as we passed, little children tugged on their friends shirts - looking - pointing. It’s been interesting being the minority, but I honestly don’t really notice it. I’ll probably feel more awkward when I return home and find myself surrounded by a sheet of white.
The last visit I went on with Betty was to Keyo Secondary School (Displaced Location) in Gulu. Whether it was luck or fate - this was Irene’s school. I was anticipating seeing her, but also sad in a sense - I knew this would be the last time I would be with her. When we arrived we were greeted by a few teachers - but it was Irene I was longing to see. When I saw her out of the corner of my eye I immediately smiled - our eyes met and she started to laugh. We ran and gave each other a hug exclaiming how glad we were to see one another again. She told me she was not feeling well and had been sick since yesterday.
Irene left for a short while to gather the rest of the Keyo Students supported under VCSP (Visible Child Scholarship Program) and during that time Betty led me to a large tree where we sat in too chairs awaiting the arrival of the students. 7 girls and 1 boy arrived (some students did not come) - Irene was among the group of students. The meeting began with a prayer and then Betty had me introduce myself to the group as well as speak a few words of encouragement. It was quite awkward, but Irene’s smile made everything better. She was clearly the brightest, most motivated in the group and did much of the talking, if not all. A cloud was overhead and soon the rain started to fall. We moved the benches into a makeshift classroom right as the rain began to pour down from the sky - pelting the ground with great force. As we sat down the headmaster told me I brought the rain from the heavens because I was visiting Keyo, he said the fact I was there was a great blessing.
The meeting continued and not much was said, I felt like I was in one of those movies where crickets were heard in the background to fill the awkward silences. Betty scheduled the next meeting and everyone left except for Irene who remained to discuss the problem of some of the girls disregarding school policy by wearing tight pants (a sign of disrespect). She told Betty she’s been trying to talk with them and set them straight but they just won’t listen. Betty explained to Irene that sometimes she might just need to let the girls learn the hard way - by consequence. Sitting listening to Irene, I could completely relate. I struggle with what Irene struggles with - wanting to try and change people’s minds, wanting to help them before they have to suffer the consequences of their actions. I knew from the beginning that Irene and I were alike, I just didn’t realize how much. But as much as I’m dying to keep in touch with Irene I cannot - and it’s killing me inside. When we said our goodbyes Irene told me we would meet again someday; I hope she’s right. Irene holds a special place in my heart. She is a strong, smart, motivated girl, and I know she will go far so long as life doesn’t get her down. I will never forget her.
Betty then took me to Kathrina’s (a local restaurant) to eat, it was the second time I’ve been there and delicious all the same. I ate posho and malaquon (which I thought was absolutely AMAZING!). There were no utensils, so I ate with my hands (a normal practice in Uganda). It was really strange - but an interesting experience all the same. Some of her friends were there and we talked of the failures in the education system of Uganda (how students know the books, but can’t actually practice their knowledge in real life - they memorize, but they can’t apply). We even talked about Obama! Everyone here in Uganda loves Obama, it’s very refreshing. After we finished talking and ate our meal I ate a fresh banana (which is served after every meal at the restaurant) and we were on our way. We rode back to the intern house where we parted ways, but not until after I gave Betty my contact information.
I walked into the intern house and have been writing since! Now I need to sleep, with all I’ve written today I still feel that I’ve left out some important details - but what I have written will have to do.
Until tomorrow...
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