TRAVELERS -- Down the road not over the hill!: February 2016

Uganda Revisited

The first time we visited Uganda was in 2012 and we wrote about the Uganda we knew growing up. It was hard to believe that we were walking the same streets and visiting the same villages we saw terrorized on the nightly news. The tyranny of Idi Amin and the thousands of lives lost during his reign of terror has not been forgotten but has been put after 50 years in the past.

This week we spent time once again in Uganda and we would like to talk about Uganda today. Oh, some things still linger from the old days like powerful politicians and fixed elections. But many other things have changed. Everywhere we drove we saw roads being built and even some shopping malls and schools. Of course, in third world countries often the metal is rusted from years of sitting waiting for final completion. However, what struck us most, were the people and the countless smiles we saw. By far the people of Uganda are the friendliest and appear to be very happy. Perhaps the memories of the past have given them great appreciation for the future. A future that many of their fellow citizens never experienced. So, like the people of Uganda we are going to replace our past memories of the monster that once ruled with the smiles and waves of the hundreds of people that greeted us and like them, we will look to the promise of a better future for Uganda.

I will you remember you …. will you remember me…

“If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the safari drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Hills look out for me?”
― Karen Blixen wrote in her novel Out of Africa

Today we revisited East African Orphanage which was the first orphanage we ever visited in Africa. When last there, we spent two touching days with the children playing, dancing, singing songs and becoming friends. When the time came to leave two years ago, I was an emotional wreck for days, so deeply moved by the experience.

Now as we approached the orphanage, I was once again a ball of nerves. I wondered like Karen Blixen, if the children would remember our brief visit, that in a child’s life must seem to be so long ago. I imagined that they would remember my songs, my bedtime story or my tickles and hugs. I asked myself, did our visit have any long-lasting effect on this time in their childhood?

As we walked down the dirt path and through the rusty gate leading to the orphanage, my heart started to beat faster just hearing the sounds of children playing. When we finally got nearer to the orphanage, the children spotted us and began to wave and cheer. At that moment, I was instantly transported back as if there was no space between 2014 and today. I could not help but search the faces of the children for some recognition that my journey back was familiar in more ways than the voices, visual structure and smells of the orphanage. As my panic grew, I felt like a mother that had lost a child in a crowd. The faces although beautiful, were not familiar, not the faces I have thought about since last there. And then after what seemed like forever, a little girl grabbed my arm and said, “I can’t believe you came back”. I looked at her stunned by her comment. She then said, “do you remember me?” When she smiled, I recognized her immediately. She was taller and her childish face was now the face of a young teenage girl. She then asked, if I remembered her name. Instantly, I prayed for divine intervention to make the name come to me… but it did not. When I told her no, a look of sadness crossed her face. But in an instant, she whispered to me “my name is Sally”. I grabbed her to me and said, “Sally of course I remember you …I came back to see you.” Her face lit up and with tears in her eyes she gave me the biggest hug ever.

In another corner of the courtyard, Roy was searching too. Although a reserved man in most situations, I know he was also deeply touched by the little boys at the orphanage. When I finally spotted him, he was sitting on a poorly constructed stone wall talking to two young boys. When he looked my way, I saw a big smile on his face, and I knew he had also found some of his kids.

Within minutes, there were half a dozen little girls around me telling me they remembered me. Almost on cue, they began to do the chicken dance. It is impossible to relay how I felt in the moment surrounded by such unbridled happiness and love in reconnecting with the children. Even as I write this, I will tell you that I have a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

There was one special girl that during my last visit had showed me her pet chicken secretly kept outside the window of the girl’s dorm. In fact, perhaps you will remember I wrote a story about her and her chicken. The title of the story was “What love looks like. I searched the faces but could not find her. I then asked the other girls if the little girl with the pet chicken was still at the orphanage. As if I had said her name, they all screamed yes. One girl ran towards the girl’s dorm and within minutes she had the girl in toll. Soon, she was standing shyly in front of me. I asked her if she had remembered my visit and she said yes. She had remembered that she had braided my hair. Interesting enough, she was more reserved than the last time we had met. Perhaps, she was at that awkward stage bridging childlike innocence with that of being an insecure young girl. Once she overcame her shyness; we were once again old friends.

We also met new children and like before each of them grabbed our hands and walked us to their dorm. As we made our way past rolls of small bunk beds covered with worn blankets, they pointed to their bed. They even said enthusiastically that if we wanted, we could sit on their bed. Two years ago, we had the same experience with the children when we met them. I finally realized that they were sharing with us the only thing they had of their very own in the whole world …their bed. There were no teddy bears with torn ears and missing buttons, fluffy favorite blankets or special toys that played nursery rhymes and lit up the ceiling as they drifted off to sleep. But as children alone in the world, they had carved out something that belonged to them, and they were very proud of it.

The time passed so quickly and sadly it was time to leave once again. As I was hugging the girl’s goodbye, I saw Roy giving high fives to the boys. When we finished our farewells and all the children had retreated to the dorms to go to bed, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Standing there with tears in her eyes was Sally. She reached for me and wrapped her arms around me for one long beautiful hug. I looked at her and then I took off my necklace which consisted of two stone red hearts and put it in her hand. I said, “you keep this to remember me until we see each other again”. She looked up at me and said, “so you will come back”? I replied yes. She smiled, clenched my necklace tightly in her hand and then ran down the dirt path and was soon out of sight.

Today, as I walked away from the orphanage, I did not cry. Oh, I was sad to leave that was for sure. But this time, I had a sense of peace and clarity. I knew in my heart that our connection even though so brief, was meaningful. Valuable not just to Roy and myself but also to a few little children a world away.

So, although I’m pretty sure the children will not write a song about Roy and I, or make up a game in our honor, I do believe they will remember us. How ironic that some silly little boys, a sweet girl with a pet chicken and a pretty teen with a big smile named Sally, would never in a million years realize how much they impacted two old folks from Wisconsin and that they will be remembered and that this story was told.