Anyhow, companion number 1 has a very serious expression. We ask about him and learn that his mom and dad are dead and that he has a younger sister. We are not sure if this is true or if this is a story for white people to gain sympathy, but I notice him wipe his eyes between scowls, so I believe it is a true story. We wander around town a bit and chat with many other people. As we are concluding our loop he asks us for money; he is only the second person to ask for money since we arrived in Uganda which surprises me. Instead, we wander up to the only fruit stand in town and buy some bananas to share with him. He gobbles his down.
We continue our walk towards the only sight in town, the House of Edirisa primary school (Edirisa runs a hotel and tours in the area and have helped to build the school). He tells us that this is his school. As we are walking, we gain two more companions, one is 12 and says his name is something that sounds like Johnson. The other little boy may or may not be Johnson's little brother and he is small and says he his 9, but the others correct him and say he is 7. Johnson happily chomps on a raw potato as we walk. And Little Guy is very shy, he walks a couple of steps behind us the whole time but these three stay with us for several hours. It takes maybe 40 minutes to get to the school during which we chat mostly about the plants we pass, the beautiful scenery, and how many languages there are in Uganda (the kids named more than 10). We arrive at the school and encounter some older boys playing football, one is 14 and in his last year in the school and the other is 21 and has finished school and I suppose is now trying to figure out what he can do. These two leave their soccer game to follow us to the school.
While at the bright school - which has a giant globe in the center grass courtyard and is painted with "quizzes" on the walls like name the parts of the heart, the skin, the eye, the national parks in Uganda, etc - we meet two volunteers at a medical clinic adjacent to the school. They are Slovenian and maybe 25, we chat for a bit and learn that they have just arrived 1 week ago and will stay 3 months total at the clinic. They ask how the food is at our lodging place and whether there is pizza served. We take pictures of some of the kids at the school and they like to see themselves on our camera screen; Scott points to each one of them on the screen and says "look at that handsome gentleman," Little Guy grins, Johnson smiles and our first companion continues to look serious.
As we are leaving the school, we pass by the bathroom facilities. When Scott starts to go nearer to take a look, our companions protest vigorously that the facilities are bad and that he cannot use them. He says he just wants to take a look and we all stand back while he does so - He emerges and they comment that the facilities are bad, that they are dirty. They all solemnly agree.
The kids follow us all the way back to the hotel, right to the door where they cannot enter and we bid them goodbye with individual handshakes. Unsurprisingly, this walk with the kids is the most enduring experience so far for me. They are all tiny, I look at their sizes relative to the kids in my life, Sara at 11 is probably 2 feet taller than the 12 year old and 30 pounds heavier; Brooke at almost 8 is much bigger than the 10 year old and the Little Guy would look like a toddler next to Nic and Nicole, who are 1 year younger than he. I keep mentally comparing the kids' sizes to American-kid sizes and exclaiming to myself that they are so small; I suppose their stature reflects all of the hardships of poverty but their size is easier to comment upon than to dig too deeply into their nutrition, access to medical care, and presence or absence of parents.
Ahh, the walk to see the primary school.
- Becca
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