Visitation Day

Life is back to normal for me in the village; I spend each day thinking about a small subset of things: teaching, what device I'm going to charge, and how I'm going to make it back to my house if I venture out. This last one has become quite an ordeal, as the rainy season is bringing torrential rains twice a day, which makes it nearly impossible for boda-boda drivers to get up the steep, slippery mud hills to the village. When I ask them in town if they can take me to Kyabirwa, they say "Eh! Kyabirwa! The village? But the road is very bad!" I've had to resort to taking cars now instead of motorbikes, and the cars inevitably get stuck in the road, and then the kids in the road and I have to help push them.

Not surprisingly, then, every single piece of clothing I own is totally caked in mud. Yesterday was independence day, which meant there was nothing to do, so I figured I'd take the opportunity to wash my socks and underwear. I pay for Florence, Moses' wife, to wash my bigger clothes, but we obviously do our own undergarments. I have basically been adopted by Moses' eight-year-old, Winnie, and his four-year-old, Danny, and they were for some inexplicable reason eager to help me wash my underwear. I felt ridiculous about this, but Winnie is very stubborn. "Mbe [No], Shannah! You are not doing it right!" she says, and her spindly arms reach in between mine to grab the garment, to which she applies elbow grease worthy of a three-hundred pound person. My socks were particularly troubling, as they are totally red-earth stained. Don't ask me how. They were no match for Winnie, though. She is a machine. Danny was helpful as entertainment-- he made himself a soap-sud beard and sideburns and did a little dance for us. Being here makes me realize how much I truly enjoy the company of children. I actually think I prefer children to adults-- they are full of love and energy and fun. These children have completely stolen my heart.

Today was visitation day at the boarding high school where Moses' eldest daughter attends, and when she was home earlier she begged me to come see her on visitation day. So Moses and I set out, and after a complicated ordeal in Jinja to try to get packed lunches ordered to take with us to the school in the middle of (guess what) a torrential downpour, we finally made it to Maureen. She had nearly given up on us, and she was so excited to see us. She ran up and gave me a huge hug. I was definitely the only mzungu at visitation day, and Moses told me later that Maureen has now gained respect from the other students because a mzungu came to see her.

The secondary school thing occupies a lot of time in my head these days. I keep searching for
the "source of the problem" in Ugandan education, and I can't seem to put my finger on one thing. One huge issue, though, is that attending secondary school is tremendously costly. Moses is a teacher, which means he makes about $1100 a year. Secondary school costs between $300 and $800 a year, with boarding schools being better, and on the more expensive side. This means that more than half of Moses' salary goes to pay for Maureen's school. He also has seven more children at home, two of which are from his extended family but that he has taken responsibility for. Lydia, the second-oldest, is due to go to secondary school in January. She is incredibly sweet and clever. She wants to be a nurse and she desperately wants to go to boarding school in Kampala. Financially, though, it will literally not be possible for Moses to send her.

This issue came up over breakfast yesterday. Moses is a very proud man, who is very quiet about his own needs. He runs this volunteer program with no benefit to himself-- he makes no profit on what the volunteers pay for room and board, and any surplus is considered a donation to the school. But the Lydia issue had been weighing on him. He was very quiet as we drank our coffee yesterday. Finally, he said, "Shannah, I need to ask you something. And please. You can say no. I do not want to make you uncomfortable. And I have never asked a volunteer for something like this before. But you have mentioned wanting to sponsor a child for secondary among your students. I am just asking whether you might consider one of my children. The one I am thinking of is Lydia."

As he said it, it made perfect sense. I don't teach Lydia's class-- because she is in the highest grade, P7, and I teach P6 and P5-- but the secondary school cost issue is much more imminent for P7. If they pass their exams, they're due to go to secondary school in January. I'd been considering sponsoring one or two of my P6 students if they can pass their exams, but that won't happen until next year. So I had been wondering what sort of contribution I can make in the next year (when I'm finally earning a salary) that would be meaningful. With Lydia, I can also be assured that the money will be well spent, and that she will receive the utmost support from home. Also, Lydia has been my guide and caretaker in a lot of ways in my time here. When we go to church on Sundays, and the service is in Lusoga, she listens for cues and then directs me to where we are in the English bible. When I come home from town with my shoes caked with mud, they disappear and then magically appear mud-free the next morning. She is teaching me songs, Lusoga words, and hip-shaking dance moves (which would look much better on me if I had hips). And for about the price of my Starbucks habit, I can make sure her education continues. So... I told Moses I'd consider it... and then I told him I would be happy to be her sponsor. I'll begin paying her secondary fees in January. It will be about $600 a year, and perhaps a bit more when she goes on to college (I know, I know... that's an expensive Starbucks habit... but have you calculated yours?? It's astounding when you sit down and do it).

It's so hard to know how to make an impact here. I constantly run into mzungus working in orphanages or running programs for street children or teaching women to do arts and crafts so they can support themselves. Everyone has their cause, and everyone has their angle. Even as I've told people in the U.S. that I'm here, they've said, "Oh! I'm on the board of XYZ nonprofit that is working to empower women in Uganda by making paper beads." I'm totally supportive of the nonprofit sector, but I also think the problem is so vast and multifaceted that it's daunting to try to find a way to contribute meaningfully such that I can sleep at night. But, I look at the way Lydia cares for her six younger siblings, and I think she would be a good nurse. And when I was twelve, plotting my future career as a diplomat, no one would have dreamed of stopping me. So that's going to be my humble contribution for now-- a few sheckels laid down in support of one kid's dream. A kid who maybe I was meant to find-- she has the same name as my grandmother. A kid whose dance moves late at night can't be beat. Least of all by my own.