Looking in From the Outside

I met some new friends as I walked the path to the slum that borders the pitch where the children play games like soccer and tug of war. As I sat down I heard the happy jabbering of a small child, and looked over to see an adorable boy carrying a bamboo stick and happily roaming about. This is common here, that children roam about, do chores and in general take care of themselves. He was probably three by the looks of it, and when he noticed me, he toddled over and sat beside me and proceeded to carry on a full blown, one sided conversation with me. He was not phased when I could only stare at him and grin, sharing a few meager words and phrases that I know. He was a very quick study however, repeating all the words I used to show him our surroundings. Stick, rock, truck… well you get the picture. We sat contentedly together for some time, watching the school children play games. After a while, a boy probably thirteen or so walked over and talked to my new friend. I discovered that he was the uncle, the child’s name was Rockford, and the teen was named Clifford. He and I sat mostly in silence because he really wasn’t interested in anything but watching a group of his peers play games while he stared through the fence. It was painfully obvious that he longed to be out there with them, and that he was not in school. As I sat in silence with him, my heart was literally broken. Then it wasn’t long before a whole group of boys lined the path, all watching and wishing they could join the games.

I have mentioned that the children at one of the schools I have been volunteering at all live in the neighboring slum. The boys who joined me on the path to watch the games also live in the slums. They will all likely join up after school for more soccer and games, but during the school day, the only ones playing on that field and learning and growing are the ones blessed to have school fees.

As I continued to sit there, another reality showed up, that of the very young girls all the way to teens, who are also not in school, who carried jug after jug of water up the hill to their homes. They did not just go to the well which was pretty deep into the slum, but they did this multiple times. One little girl, between four and five had to stop over and over and adjust her weight, and use a sock for her hand that was hurt so she could carry it. She was so tired, and she looked at me with eyes that ripped my heart out. The hill that they were going up is steep, and tall. Another girl, much stronger and faster, apparently finished her afternoon water chores early and joined the boys on the path with me to watch. They carry water throughout the day, this is their life.

There were so many cultural experiences in the simple act of sitting on a well trodden path in the slum that it blows my mind.  This is life here and though these children aren’t in school today, I have hope that this system will change as well. So, I smiled, and prayed for a few of them and hoped that I wasn’t interfering otherwise, then I went back to sit with my sweet little jabbbering friend and watch as he found a broken truck to play with. We made car noises together and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Sometimes, the best answer to obvious pain and lack is to smile, hope for brighter days, and enjoy each other despite it all.

I walked back into the school filled with laughter and a sense of belonging and prayed for all those who still yet don’t know who they belong to all the while celebrating those who had made it inside. Brighter days are ahead, God has beautiful plans for Uganda, and there truly is hope. Join me as I cry out for all that God has in store for this country.