After going to Uganda last year I could say "I never knew things really are like that. I had never seen things like that with my own eyes. Those things aren't real in my world."
Today as I am in Uganda once again I can say "My eyes are no longer innocent. My mind is filled with their suffering. My heart hurts for their pain. Things are worse then I even knew."
Today we went to the slums of Jinja. A small village populated by a tribe called the karamojong who migrated here some years ago populate this area called Masese.
I knew the area was bad. I knew there were many health concerns (ringworm, jiggers, scabies to name a few) that should have kept us from touching much. I knew there would be children running astray, half clothed, malnourished. I knew. But I did not know. Really.
As we entered the village a mass of children swarmed the van all yelling "muzungu" white person. Once the door was opened and we set foot on the ground we were swarmed. There was no one spot on my white skin that was not being touched by small black, searching hands. I can say I am somewhat used to this. It's a typical thing for children. But then we were led off the of the main road into the real village. Where clothes lines with grubby clothes weaved the path overhead, the smell of smoke, urine, mud, and cooking rice, overwhelming our senses.
Trodden down by the multiple children attempting to use me as a tree to climb I decided to sit on some higher ground near the houses. It was then I really saw what I had been looking at. Holding a baby, not even a year old, who wore only a dirt covered shirt, malnourished to the point where he had no bottom fat, my eyes absorbed what I had not thought to be true. This small child who clingged to my neck had sores covering his back, the onset of ringworm on his small head. He had been given a piece of bread to eat, by who I am not sure. I held him and I could not hold back the tears. As others pulled at my skirt, ran their fingers through my hair, and asked for pictures I sat in my own thoughts, crying, praying a silent prayer that these things could not be true.
The small child was soon taken from me by a young woman who I am guessing was his mother although she looked hardly older then me. The children took advantage of the free space and climbed on my lap. I found myself seeking the smallest, the weakest, the children who had been pushed down, shoved to the side, forgotten by their siblings because these muzungus were here. I took three by the hand, one by one. They came willingly into my embrace and I placed them on my lap. The older children who had been seeking my attention quickly caught on and ran to their younger siblings or simply those who were crying. After most were calmed and tears were dried I began singing with them a song I knew from a program I only assumed they attended called Amazima. Although I knew many songs from my own childhood and they sing them in similar ways they always laughed when I would add in an extra word or phrase. I loved it. All of them singing and laughing. They were making this ugly place beautiful.
Exhausted and my hair throughly combed through by small fingers, we loaded back into the van. Trying to find trusting hands to take the baby that had fallen asleep against my chest was a challenge. Finally his what seemed to be six year old sister came to me, motioning for me to put him on her back. Hesitantly I let him go. With hands still reaching I crawled back into the safe van to drive back to the safe house to continue living my safe life (with the possibility of having ringworm).
Sitting here now I still have not showered. I needed to post this to say something. To let everyone know who is reading this that those things, they ARE real. Reality. That is their reality. Everyday. Scabbing scalps, bleeding feet covered in flies, infected skin, swollen bellies. That is all the sweet baby boy I held for nearly an hour will know. Saying it breaks my heart does not suffice. Things are not meant to be that way. For anyone. And as I grow older and advance in my education I am going to do my best to not let them be so. My challenge to you, see it with your own eyes too.
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