Dateline: 7:17 P.M. Gulu time. That’s 9:17 A.M. CST for those of you keeping score at home.
MEETING THE CHILDREN!
Today we finally got to meet the children! It was a day of celebration for us all!
The children are trucked in from one of 5 different IDP camps around Gulu. They range in age from infants to older teenagers. All of them have been identified as orphans and are served by Village of Hope. We met at the Gulu Baptist Primary School, which has a large open field where the children performed for us.
They had pulled out their desks from the classrooms in order to have places for us to sit. They placed our benches underneath the trees while they crowded onto the benches in the sun or sat on the ground.
There were probably 200-300 children at the school today. Unfortunately, due to recent rains one of the groups was not able to get there. The rains made the road unpassable for their truck, and so they had to stay behind. It took two trips in our van to get us all there, so while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive, Jennifer and I “worked the crowd”, greeting the children and shaking their hands. The children were very polite, if quiet, bowing to us as we said hello, and smiling shyly as we complimented them. It was obvious they had worn their very best clothes for this special occasion, but most of them were still barefoot and their clothes often were stained or had holes and tears in them. I thought of the vast amounts of clothes my children have hanging in their closets, stuffed into their drawers and was humbled and deeply grateful for God’s provision and grace in our lives.
As we waited, one boy in particular began doing cartwheels. As soon as he realized I was watching, he began “performing”, and soon two other boys joined in. They ended up dizzy and lying flat on the ground, but we were all laughing. And seeing all that joy on their faces made me realize why I am here.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/user/debbispeer#p/u/0/xZ2-WlqQ9y4[/youtube]
The groups came up one by one to perform for us: songs, memory verses, dances. The traditional dances were my favorites, with the older boys beating out the rhythm on the drums and all the children from about 6 years old on up dancing to the beat and singing in their native Acholi language. You could see the pure joy of escaping their harsh reality on their faces as they danced and sang. For a few short moments, they had a community. They had a place to be accepted, a place to belong. They were the stars, admired by us.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/user/debbispeer#p/a/u/0/AXSsxv0HMaQ[/youtube]
We enjoyed lunch in one of the classrooms at around 3 P.M. Slowly, I’m learning what being on “African time” means. We were served first, and then each camp lined up to receive their food from the kitchen. We were served meat in addition to the rice, beans, posho, bananas, and cabbage, but the children did not receive any meat. While we were waiting for all the groups to be served, one group went into the classroom next door to us and had an impromptu jam session. Of course, I had to go check it out.
By this time, after two 750 mL bottles of water and a bottle of Coca-Cola, it was time. Time for the visit I was so not looking forward to. Time to make the trek out to the pit latrines. Now, I’ve done enough camping to be fine with using pit latrines. However, in Uganda, most latrines are not made with Western-style seats. No, my friends, they are squatty-potties. Honestly, I would be more comfortable digging my own trench in the brush than having to use one of those. But that was not a choice, so off I went. As I entered the dark stall, I was greeted with the raw smell and the “eww factor” of bodily fluids spilled onto the floor. My first thought was I’m so glad my children aren’t here to have to deal with this.
And instantly, I was ashamed.
Ashamed of myself and my pride. Ashamed for believing that in some way I deserve better than these people. That my children deserve better. Ashamed for wanting to shelter my children from the harsh reality that these children live out every day. These beautiful orphans are someone’s children…someone who probably wanted to protect them as fiercely as I desire to protect mine. And now they have no one to do that. It’s up to us to make a difference in these children’s lives.
The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting and interacting with the children. At the close of the day, we were each given an opportunity to speak to the children through an interpreter. I spoke of the joy I saw in them as they sang and danced, and how it brought joy to my heart. I thanked them for their hospitality and friendship and reminded them of the fact that they always have a friend in God…and now a new friend in America.
The trucks came shortly thereafter to pick up the children by groups. Even though they had nothing to go back to, the children ran eagerly to their trucks and climbed aboard. As they drove off, you could hear them calling and see them waving to us: “Bye!! Bye!!” Our vans arrived and we loaded ourselves in to head back to town to the hotel. I realized just how different my life is than the ones we had met today, and I was challenged that it is only by the grace of God that I enjoy these blessings.