September 28, 2011

September 28, 2011

            Has it been two weeks since I last posted?!?  I guess my only excuse is time escaping me; however, when it escapes you because you are so busy, I assume it is a very positive thing.

            And, my how busy I have been!

            In the last two weeks, the program has grown to include upwards of 70 girls!  Through preparations, meetings, and planning, I have had my hands full, wanting only at night to delve into a book when I can.  So, that is why there has been a lapse, but I do hope to do better in the future.

            I will try to recap on some of the highlights from the two weeks…

            I had to go to the Head Teachers at several of the schools in Kabuyanda, as the girls had informed me their schools wanted to know more about the program.  So, I went to the schools prepared to talk about what the program is doing and how we would like to be a partner with the schools, as I would love for some of the teachers to hold tutoring sessions in the future.  Anyway, the children in the school would get so excited about a muzungu being on the school grounds that one Head Teacher gave up trying to ignore it and, instead, asked me to go and visit every classroom. 

            Primary 7, Primary 6, Primary 5, Primary 4, Primary 3, Primary 1, and Primary 2 was last.  In each classroom, the children would jump up out of their seats and say in unison, “Welcome Madam to Kabuyanda Junior.  This is Primary___”.  I laughed each time I heard it and then would try to open with some phrase in Runyankori.  The kids in each class were always so surprised I would attempt their language that at first they would look slightly shocked, and then, they would erupt into laughter.  I know my pronunciation must have been horrendous, so usually I threw my hands up and started laughing to – perhaps the first time in my life where butchering words didn’t make me cringe.

            In every classroom, I would try to tell them something about myself or the country I come from, and the kids just stared at me not sure of how to respond.  I picked up the chalk in several rooms and just started writing on the boards (which I still cannot figure out what material the chalkboards were made from), and then the children would recite – as best as they could – whatever I had written.  That made me laugh, and again the classrooms would erupt! 

            It was a lovely visit, but I could not help but notice the dark skies moving slowly toward us.  And, as I was in Primary 2 (the last classroom), the rain announced itself politely with light claps upon the tin roof.  However, within minutes, its politeness turned sour, and the rain was shooting through the walls, which in this particular classroom were banana leaves woven together and missing completely in some areas.  The children were getting drenched, so I stood in front of the range of wet as best I could until the children were huddled into the opposite corner.  I felt like a giant, as these small children just looked at me, now as wet as them.

            I kept on talking – really shouting as the match continued vocally between me and the storm, and the children just kept on looking until the Head Teacher suggested they sing something for me.  They got so excited and began singing a song.  We are the children of God.  We are the children of God…

            It was like a concert for me, as I will never tire of hearing Ugandan children’s voices in song.  Beautiful.  When they were finished, I asked them if they knew the song, You are My Sunshine, as it is my personal favorite.  One boy said yes, and the Head Teacher then asked him to sing it for me.  We are the sunshine of God.  We are the sunshine of God…

            When he finished, I praised his voice, but said it wasn’t quite the song I was thinking about.  So, the Head Teacher asked me to sing!  And, if you know me at all, you may know I do not have a voice of an angel, but I’d be damned if I didn’t belt out You are My Sunshine as proudly as that little boy.  He gave me whatever it was I needed to feel comfortable.

            And, I continued to feel comfortable as I taught them the song line by line, note by note.  And, approximately 30 minutes later the kids were singing the song, beginning to end, and I was holding back tears.  This is the song I sing to my dog every night before I go to sleep in my big bed in the states and now I was standing halfway around the world singing it with children in a classroom whose walls were made of leaves.  Primary 2^nd Verse. And I held my head and I cried.  You are my Sunshine…

            After I left, the Head Teacher made the children sing the song to the entire school.  They did a really good job.  I know this, because the girls from the school who are in the program let me know about it as soon as they walked through the door.  You make me happy.

            The clouds continued to remain gray for the remainder of the afternoon, so I knew we had to leave Kabuyanda no later than 5:30pm, as the roads get very bad when it rains.  I had never been on them after a downpour like that day provided, and I knew we had to be moving.  Paved roads are not the norm, but steeps hills and sharp turns are.

            I’ll admit it.  I was nervous.  I didn’t know the back roads to get back to Mbarara, which sometimes provide a more level terrain, and I knew we only had a few hours before night took my sunshine away. 

I had every right to be nervous.  The mess of roads that lay before us was equivalent to sand when a wave decides its home is the ocean.  Your feet just sink.  A car just sinks.  Our car just sank, and moving was slow and slippery. 

And, then we saw the matooke truck.

It was stuck in the middle of the road, and there were only two small routes around it.  My driver tried to go the better of the two, but the car just started to slide, and the next thing I know the car is moving sideways on the road.  Then, the driver tried to straighten it out, but the road was too slick, and the ditch was too close.  The car slid into the ditch and came to rest against the embankment, pinning my side of the car against a mud barrier.

The car didn’t budge.

And, here in the story is an entire bit about money, men, machetes, and muzungu, but I will leave that for another time.

Just know that my driver did a wonderful job, and we were on the road again in about 25 minutes. However, the roads did not prove to get any easier.  There was about 30 yards where the car slid sideways again, and I was sure I would have to get out and push, as we are in the middle of Uganda’s countryside.  Towns are sporadic, and people can be sparse.  I would have been pushing that baby alone.

And, the darkness kept coming.

Usually, it takes approximately an hour and fifteen/thirty minutes to drive from Kabuyanda to Mbarara.  We left Kabuyanda at 5:30pm and got to Mbarara at 8pm.  It was totally dark, and I was totally spent; however, I did not have to push the car.

The last 10 kilometers I had kept thinking that we weren’t going to make it, and I held my seatbelt so tightly my hands were stiff when I finally let go.  And, I didn’t let go until I saw the back of the little circular sign, letting people coming in the opposite direction know the roads are not paved and to be cautious.  I had never been so happy to see pavement. 

I don’t like being stuck in the dark.  Not in Uganda.  Not in Kentucky.  Not in my home.  Not anywhere.  Being stuck – literally stuck – is a feeling of helplessness, which I haven’t experienced in a very long time.   I hope it is a very long time before I experience it again.

My driver and I spent yesterday learning the back roads, and now my options for getting home are a little broader, safer, and flatter, which is what I am really grateful about.  And, today after a presentation to the government, I initiate the first 25 official members into the Kabuyanda Girl Empowerment Program.  This makes me happy when skies are gray…literally.