Volunteer Abroad!

There are tons of organizations that are set up to faciliate these types of volunteer abroad opportunities and airfare is typically the biggest expense. I definitely want to do more - because trips like this one are enriching, and eye-opening and all around important.

Our group used A Broader View Volunteers, but other NGOs offer the same type of service - they'll plan the majority of your trip, set you up with a place to stay, a local liason, and the organizations you'll be volunteering with in your time abroad. You just come up with the cash and say when. And you could even fundraise to help you afford your trip. (Airfare and two weeks in a developing country might come out to about four thousand dollars, tops, and these days many companies might even pay you for X hours/days volunteering time.)

If I stow away a $100 a month into a special stash, I'll have enough for a two week volunteer stint in Vietnam or Peru, or Kenya or Tanzania, or to go back to Uganda by 2011. And I'll bring whoever wants to come with me.

Want to help?

If you'd like to help support either the OCA Computer Centre or the African Child in Need Street Kids Centre, you can do so by donating to an organization called Chi-ki Children's Charity.

Click here to see the three payment options available (sending a cheque, depositing directly into the Chi-ki bank account, or online via Paypal). Simply note where you would like your money to go: the options are African Child in Need or Orphans for Christ Computer Centre. (If you're submitting a donation via Paypal - please make sure you e-mail Sylvia the name of the project you'd like your funds earmarked to, so that they're applied accordingly!)

Donations to the computer lab help pay for teachers salaries, rent, educational supplies, and electricity. Donations to the street kids centre go directly towards school fees for the boys (approximately $600 per boy per year), food and hygiene supplies, and the centre's rent.

Chi-ki is a registered charity and tax receipts will be issued for contributions in Canada and/or the United States.

Canadian Charity#: 837976273RR0001
USA: 501(c)3 EIN #: 30-0394759

Additionally, GuluWalk has a walk every year in 17 cities in Canada, 28 cities in the USA and 14 cities globally - this is an 11 km walk to raise funds for abandoned children of Northern Uganda. This year's walk is on October 25th, 2008. In support of the victims of the LRA conflict, of those who commuted every night to escape abduction, of the 1.5 million who are still displaced today, collect your pledges and get walking - you can walk solo, join an existing team, or create your own team.

I'll be at the Toronto Walk - email me if you'd like to join my team. GuluWalk is an endeavour of a charity called Athletes For Africa, and has already raised $1M in support for the children of Northern Uganda in previous years.

Since Uganda...

Since Uganda...I've been working furiously on this blog. My goal is to make whoever reads it feel as though they were there with me. Or at least get a good feel for what I felt when I was there. A lofty goal indeed - I've always set high standards for myself, I guess. Heh. To everyone who's been waiting for its completion, thanks for your patience. And please feel free to share this blog with anyone you think might be interested in reading it.

Another thing that's happened since I got back: I resigned from Softchoice. I realized I'd been spending forty hours a week plugging away at things I didn't really care at all about. And I'd been trying to make myself care for far too long. So, I'm heading back to school, to do something I do care about: training to work as a technician in a vet clinic. Which is going to make me happy even though it won't pay me much. And I'm finally okay with that, and not afraid of it any more. Life's too short not to do what is going to make you happy.

Good news also, from Softchoice: they've decided to give $10K to support the OCA computer lab. Anthony can finally hire qualified teachers. And, the lab is finally internet-enabled, which means access to so many more helpful resources. We hear from Anthony regularly with updates.

Outside of Softchoice Cares (who's mandate is really about bridging the digital divide exclusively), efforts are underway to get Milton's boys in school. Anthony and Milton have teamed up so the boys will get to take Saturday classes at the Computer Centre to learn some skills there. A local charity, Chi-ki, has taken African Child In Need under their wing and will issue tax receipts for any donations. The boys from the centre have all been HIV tested, and though the majority are clean, sadly, one boy tested postive and will be beginning medical care.

Individually, we are all brainstorming ways to help. We don't dare let what we started over there die.

Leaving Africa

We have a really emotional day today - most of us go to visit the street kids home at Nsambya one more time, to say goodbye to the boys. It's quite a big deal, and the boys have practiced a traditional African song and dance which they perform for us. They have put paint on their bodies (likely paint we donated!) and they've made crowns of out cardboard boxes. It's nice to see them dancing to something other than 50 Cent: they seem younger, softer, more vulnerable - much more like the children they still are.

Nick takes a video of them yelling "THANK YOU SOFTCHOICE!" at the top of their lungs. Milton makes a speech about how much we mean to the boys and to him, which has my eyes starting to water a little, and then Nick talks about how much getting to be a part of their centre for a short while has meant to us. He lets the boys know we want to raise money so that they can go to school. He reminds them that Milton is a role model for them, that they should continue in his path and follow his example. He says that he knows they may have done things they don't feel too proud of, but that they should forgive themselves for the bad things they may have done in the past, and understand that life and love are about giving. That they should approach the future with this in mind. The words are well spoken and remind me of something you'd hear in church, except that Nick somehow manages to keep any religion out of it.

At this point Milton starts sobbing softly and holding onto to Nick. Watching this grown man weep is pretty moving. He just doesn't know how he can express his gratitude, he tells us. Then the boys start hugging us all, really tightly. One boy Phillip, puts his head in his hands and starts crying. These are tough street kids. I can hardly believe the scene in front of me.



When a taxi pulls up to take us back to our hostel, we are all mess of emotions. Even once we are inside the vehicle, the boys and all the neighbouring kids come up to put their hands up against the windows. I open my window and one of the boys hands me his cardboard crown. Amy is bawling in the seat in front of me - I give her shoulders a little squeeze, and put the crown on her head. And, then just like that, we drive away for the last time. Or maybe not, I don't know. Maybe some of us will be back to check up on our friends at African Child in Need. And at the OCA Computer Centre. And the babies and toddlers at the Sanyu Home. I hope that I will see them all again.


I have to figure out how I can continue to support these great people when I get back home, how I can share their stories with those who aren't lucky enough to have met them firsthand. I'm not sure what the answer to this is yet, but I feel sure there is a way.

In just over an hour another taxi will arrive - this one will take Jenn, Eric and I to Entebbe airport, where we will begin our journey home. I can't believe our last few hours are actually here. I'm going back to where there is consistent power and hot water; where the roads are maintained and there's organized public transit; where bathrooms are luxurious in comparison; where garbage is collected; and glass and plastic recycled. But I'm also going back to a place where everyone always wants more stuff, and bigger and newer and better stuff, and it's all about getting that stuff, and what you become when you have it. And that's going to be a bit depressing for me, I think. I hope that I'll be thankful everyday for the simple things.

I can't wait to share my stories with everyone. I can't wait to give Mike a giant hug and start at the beginning of my adventures here and not shut up until my throat hurts and my eyes are heavy. I can't wait to cuddle with Siris and Senor Snuggles; to call up friends; to sit at my favourite table at the Communist's Daughter and take in a little live music.

Goodbye Uganda, with your red, red soil and your loving people - I hope I'll be back one day to see what you're up to. I remain eternally grateful for these last two weeks, and I don't want to forget a single part.

Michael writes us a letter

Michael is one of the older boys living at African Child in Need. He slips a handwritten letter to Stephanie today and she shares it with us:

Hellow

I just want to say that plz thank you vary much and your team, for having left your families and decided to come to Uganda, to have fun with us and buying us mattresses, bedsheets, pillows and the beds. I also thank u for all the money you spent on us and transport from your home countries. I say that we have never had this before but because u loved us that's why you did all these for us.

I pray that may God bless you and pay you back everything and I promise that we shall never forget you for what you've done for us. I say that thanks a lot for all. I know I shall miss u and u shall miss us but through God the almight we'll meet again.

Yours happily
Micheal Heys Kiyingi

I try to figure out what strikes me the most about this letter, and I think it's the part where he talks about how he hopes that we are paid back for everything. How utterly sweet of him. Because what Michael doesn't realize is that we've already been paid back, that we are different forever because we have met him and the others, because of what we've been a part of here.

Tororo

Today is another road trip - this time to a town called Tororo. Anthony was born near this town, and if there's time we'll stop at the village where he grew up. We arrive in Tororo later than forecasted, but we kind of expect this. We've come to start tacking on 2 hours to whatever timeframe Anthony communicates to us.

Our time here is pretty much a whirlwind - we take a quick tour of the computer training centre that Anthony's group has set up in Tororo, have a quick meet up with some of Tororo's elders, (all pastor friends of Anthony's), and head to a local playing field where apparently tons of kids are eagerly awaiting our arrival.

When our bus pulls up at the playing field, we learn just how much hype has spread about our arrival. As we step off the bus, children of all ages swarm us, squealing excitedly as camera flashes go off. Everything about this is so unsettling and surreal. We feel like movie stars. Around us, everything is pandemonium - the teachers and pastors responsible for the kids try to get them under control, and eventually everyone is quiet enough for some introductions.

Things turn to chaos again, though, when it's time to hand out books and school supplies - it's almost a mob scene, pretty much. One child gets trampled, and has to be rescued - we have zero control, and it feels awful. The children who've been waiting patiently and who are doing as they've been told, end up being left without, when our supplies run out. Anthony assures us that every child will get something, that he will send extras from Kampala over, but to these kids, that's probably hard to believe, hard to understand even. Teachers and pastors step in again for crowd control duty.

The children have practiced some songs to welcome us - it's amazing how many songs they have here about welcoming guests to their country. Ian says a few words about what we've been doing in Kampala, how we are helping orphans, who we are and where we come from.

(Video above comes thru with crappy quality - apologies - any Blogger/You Tube nerds please email me if you know how to fix!)

In a bit of an awkward silence, Nick asks if the children have any questions for us. There is only one question. A beautiful girl, about thirteen, wearing a ripped school uniform steps out of the crowd to address us all. "Where does HIV come from?" she asks. Wow. It knocks the wind out of us. We can't answer. Nick ends up telling her that this is a very good question and one we don't have an answer for. She looks us each in the eye. Many of us, at this point, are mostly focused on keeping it together. Awkward silence again, until a pastor steps in to move the programme along, and the moment is lost. But not in our minds, not ever.

A few kids want to share with us some poems they've written. The subjects are so very sad. It's apparent that AIDS has touched each of these kids in a very real way...this is just life for them.

One of the poems goes like this:

HIV we wish we knew your home
The white man is searching for you
HIV where do you come from?
The black man is searching for you
HIV where do you come from?
The yellow man is searching 4 you
HIV where do you come from?
HIV you sweep the world
HIV you sweep the north
U sweep the south
HIV you sweep the west
U sweep the east

HIV U sweep mammy, U sweep daddy
HIV where do you come from?
HIV where do you come from?
HIV we wish we knew your home

There are many times on this journey that I have been overwhelmed with emotion, but hearing this girl read out this poem, with movement and rhythm and hand gestures, in front of our group of strangers, in front of her classmates, in front of her pastors, brave and unwavering, it is something.

Heather, Michon and I play a game none of us really understands with a group of young girls. The game is basically throwing a soccer ball to someone who then catches it and throws it to someone else, who then catches it and - well, this is all we understand. So, pretty much - catch. We add a twist to the game that when you catch the ball, you have to yell out your name, so that we can learn their names and they can learn ours. And so we meet Rose. And Esther. And two Brendas. And Carol. And Grace. And two Ruths. And Mary. And a little one named Innocence.

Later we drive to see a foster home. Because Tororo is small there is no formal orphanage - Anthony is hoping to raise enough funds to set one up behind the Computer Training Centre. Since there is no orphanage, orphans are cared for by local families in individual homes.

We meet one lady, a widow with one child of her own, who is caring for four foster children. The six of them all live in a small mud hut - a single room. We get to take a look inside, and we take pictures so that we can share this humbling experience with our friends and families back home, with anyone who isn't here to see it first hand. Again we are floored by the sense of community, by the generosity of these people who have so little, opening up their tiny homes to others in need.

An eye opener

This evening, the group who were volunteering at the babies' orphanage tell us about something they witnessed en route to their volunteer site. At the side of the road they saw a young boy being manhandled across the street, while he was crying loudly. They assumed, of course, as any westerner would, that this was a father disciplining his son. Later, the team saw the same boy alone, his face freshly bloody. Christine, the group's guide for the day, explained to them that street children are beaten all the time for stealing. And that often street children are beaten when they haven't even actually stolen anything - they are beaten because it is assumed that they've stolen, or that they will steal.

Christine further reveals that this one particular boy was lucky that he was so young. Older children, she tells them, those about twelve or thirteen years, would be beaten or stoned to death if they are found to have stolen from local merchants. She tells the group horrible stories of mobs burning homeless thieves to death in crowded markets. And the sad reality - mob justice goes almost entirely unpunished in Uganda.

This is why African Child in Need exists - because street kids have few options available to them. Starve or steal, really. And a child who is forced to steal to survive is really risking their life, just by being on the streets. What Milton's done - giving these kids a place they can feel safe - is incredible. And though our stomachs turned when we saw how dirty, how barren, how all around awful the living conditions were on our first visit to the centre, we now truly understand. What little they have in that centre is far far better than being left alone to fend for themselves on the streets. Talk about humbling. Hearing this story, even second hand, from the mouths of our friends makes it all the more real.