A Friday afternoon walk.

As part of our upcoming HIV Awareness Day planning, this past Friday afternoon Michelle and I were sent to scope out the best possible place to hold our venue. The International Hospital of Kampala (IHK) will be completing the free testing and counselling on the planned awareness day. So, nurse Deborah from the IHK set us up with a local community volunteer to choose the best possible place to hold the venue.

Violet came to meet us and give us our tour of the areas in the afternoon. Both are in the slums, and about a five minutes walk apart.

The tranches run throughout the community, filled with garbage, sewage and disease

We were walking towards the second location, listening to Violet's countless stories about life in the 'slum' community. It seemed she knew every single person we passed, with men, women and children calling out to her, and greeting her in Lugandan "Jebale Ko, Nyabo" which means hello/well done/thank you for your work. She would greet them back, and thank them for there work, ask about there homes/families and our walking continued. She would tell us who each person was, explaining where they live, if/where they work and give is a brief background history as we continued.
Walking up to one row of shanty houses, which was overcome with sewage and garbage, we stopped to greet an older lady laying on the porch area of anothers home. In front of her, and under a small tarp filled with holes was what looked to be a small homestead, of a blanket, some cardboard boxes, and tattered clothing. Violet explained that this woman was of the Acholi tribe from the north, and when the LRA invaded her village years back, her son was taken and soon after, she and her husband fled in fear of there lives. They 'settled' in Namuwango,  picking up odd jobs with the few skills they had to survive in the city.  Between seven and ten years ago, the husband died, leaving the woman sick, and completely alone. Her illness made her too weak to work, and after 6 months of not paying her landlord rent, she was evacuated from her home.  Since then she has been homeless in the slums, sleeping in decrepit conditions every night, with no family and friends to help out. I asked Violet why neighbors don't offer assistance, and was given the answer that "they are just too many." "They" referring to the totally helpless. She went on to explain that most of the people living in this slum are incredibly desperate and vulnerable themselves, so taking care of strangers is often not a possibility, never mind priority.

Children of Namuwango sitting on the railroad tracks. 

Even in the slums, rent costs are a months wages for most, and more than a months wages for many. Landlords do very little to keep the homes in decent condition, and no amenities are included. No water. No power. No toilets.  Many of the houses are merely mud shacks, falling apart and full of holes, Some are made with wood and cardboard, and some of the newer homes are made of plaster with a tin roof. One bedroom homes are standard, although we have seen a couple two bedroom homes. Five to ten, or more persons in a house is normal, which lends an idea to the quality of living these people experience day in, day out.

It is hard to swallow this fact, and for a moment I felt claustrophobic as the helplessness sunk in. No matter what one person, or organization can do to help, and alleviate the suffering, there is always more. You give one family a home because they lost theirs to devastating circumstance, to turn  around and meet another family, who's story is even more overwhelming. For every child given hope through sponsorship, there are a hundred who want nothing more than to be able to go to school.

Sisters.

This is where, again, the hope comes in. It surprises me everytime I meet someone with a story like this woman. They are full of hope, and grateful for the day, the food they might have, and the care that God has given them so far. Truly grateful. I really don't think I knew what genuine gratefulness looked like until I arrived in Uganda, where it's not 'more, bigger, better, newer', but 'thank you, Lord for food and family', and 'praise God for another day.' I am blessed by these people every day, and can only pray that one day I will be able to feel the hope and trust in God to have the extent that they are living in.
I had three stories, of three woman of Namuwango in mind when I started this blog, and am getting tired again, so I will end with a quick note about one other family.
There is a girl in the slum, who is lame and has no use of her legs. As she was crawling her way into her home one night, she was raped by a man passing by. A year and a half later, she has an eight  month old beautiful little boy named Edwin, whom she struggles to care for. Her aunt, whom she lives with is her only living relative, and has just been admitted to the hospital with cancer. Soon this young mom will be unable to pay her rent, as her aunt made enough money selling charcoal to pay the rent each month.

Mama Fauda, and Edwin(8mths)

The situation seems dire, and without either government ( not going to happen!) or NGO help, there is little if any hope that this woman and her boy will survive, never mind thrive. But, with programs set up to help the vulnerable, there are options for support. These programs are created with self-sustainability, empowerment and attacking the roots of poverty in mind.  I see it here, and can attest that it works. When we all put our hearts and hands together, and focus on what really matters, change happens.
Thanks for reading. God Bless, and good night!  
Blessings,
Chels