“The timber we bought for this job is not enough.”
“The tailors are asking for more stools”.“We need money for more firewood”.
There are some days working here when it is easy to feel taken for granted. However much you do or give it’s not enough, and more is demanded. However much you plan ahead, things still go wrong and immediate solutions are expected. I had one of those days in late January just before our trip home. Following a barrage of such requests and demands by phone, by text and in person, I was handed a letter. It began with customary greetings, blessings and praises to God. In my weary mind I was anticipating the inevitable request for money that was likely to follow such effusive greetings and blessings. So I was pleasantly surprised (and then guilty about my cynicism) that the second paragraph said:
“I am okay because the way your handling my child x. He is in good condition, thank you very much, and I am informing you to come at my home and I see you for the work you have done for that child x, God bless you too much. Thank you for helping my child, God will re-ward you.”
The letter was from someone we had never met or spoken to before, whose son is training in carpentry. I was bowled over as this was the first occasion on which anyone had directly expressed gratitude to us concerning the projects in Acholi Quarter, and a definite invitation with a fixed date (as opposed to “when are you coming to my place?”) is a big deal.
The day came last Thursday so we met with Isaiah and the trainee, assuming that we would walk together to his father’s place. Isaiah looked puzzled and suggested that we should go in the car. I wasn’t sure which Kasese neighbourhood we were headed for so we got in and started driving. Then Isaiah asked me if I had enough petrol and it dawned on us that the unknown neighbourhood in Kasese town to which we were headed was in fact an unknown village somewhere within Kasese District. Some 40km later and well along the Kasese-Bwera main road we turned off onto the dirt road to Kagando hospital, our trainee in the back assuring us that we were now very near. Passing the hospital after another 6km we continued into Kisinga town. Was it here? “Yes we are coming now now.” We then turned off onto a narrow and bumpy dirt track and drove another few kilometres, (which takes a while on such tracks), before finally reaching the village of Kajwenge where we were much relieved to hear that this was indeed the village we were after. I slowed right down assuming that one of the houses we were approaching would be our destination, but after a while as we seemed to be leaving the village and heading back into the countryside we were directed off our track onto what in England would be called a footpath, or maybe a bridleway. I was getting nervous as we drove through banana plantations with branches brushing the car, occasionally slamming on the brakes to avoid killing a chicken, duck, goat, or child in my path. I was also praying that it wouldn’t rain today, which could have quickly turned this no-nonsense dirt-path into a slippery quagmire. Somehow our indefatigable Toyota Landcruiser made it through the farms and the footpaths and we ended up on a steep slope in the middle of a farm on a hill in the middle of beautiful Ugandan countryside. “Tumefika” (we have arrived) stated our trainee, to our great relief.
We were greeted warmly by his father Nelson who proudly showed us around his beautiful farmstead of bananas/matoke, cassava, sweet-potatoes, pineapples, avocado trees, coffee, cocoa, vanilla and various African “greens”. Inevitably there were also lots of chickens and children running around. Sam has the Lee gene which loves to put things away and soon busied himself collecting coffee beans which were drying in the sun and putting them all into a big cup, to the bemusement of one of Nelson’s young children. We also walked to the crest of the hill from where we could see over the valley to another hill where there is a Baptist Church and primary school to which the children undertake a marathon daily walk, leaving before dawn and returning after dark each day.
On returning from this walk lunch was ready and one of the household poured water for us to wash our hands and blessed the food before leaving the three of us and Isaiah to enjoy an African feast of chicken, spaghetti, doda (a bitter spinach-type dish), avocado and bananas. I have got used to African hospitality where the women and children eat separately while the man/men entertain guests, but this was new to be left to eat entirely by ourselves. After we’d enjoyed a good feed someone appeared to question why we “had eaten so little” and then left again, so Isaiah and I duly set to our duty of polishing off as much of the rest of the chicken and spaghetti as we could – including the gizzards and the neck which are a “delicacy” reserved for visitors. We excused Bethan from eating third helpings on account of being pregnant and having a compressed stomach!
After we’d eaten most of a chicken and what must have been an entire packet of spaghetti, Nelson and the whole family came back in and we had some formal introductions, prayers, and conversation, in which we learnt that one of the men of the family is a special-needs teacher shortly taking a post in Kasese town, and that Nelson is the “cousin-brother” to Dorothy who Bethan has started some other special-needs work with. It really is a small world! During these conversations it was good to learn more about our trainee, who lives alone in Acholi Quarter (hence being in the project there) and whose wife and expected baby will hopefully join him there when he completes his course and starts making a living. As this trainee actually has the worst attendance record of our carpenters, it was very useful to learn more about his situation and understand the pressures he is under, including time taken off for the sickness, death and burial of close family members.
I never go anywhere empty-handed and had presented Nelson with one of our finest papayas on arrival (fortunately one thing that he didn’t grow himself). Nelson expressed gratitude for this and said he would give us something in return. But we were surprised when, following hushed conversation outside, people came in bearing a sack of five pineapples, a bag of four avocados, some vanilla seedlings for our garden, some “Greens” seeds for Isaiah’s garden, and a mature hen with its legs bound. We were bowled over by such generosity. Having just eaten one of their chickens we certainly hadn’t expected to leave with another one! Whatever our guilt about accepting such gifts from people who struggle to provide for their own children, it is highly-offensive to refuse, so we accepted them with profuse thanks. The pineapples and avocados have been shared out here, and the hen is now laying eggs with our other two hens in our garden.
More importantly, we have grown in our understanding of why the projects we are involved in are so needed, but also why we must be patient with those who they serve. To our English minds, persistent absence from free-training smacks of ingratitude, yet our visit to Nelson’s farm showed us that gratitude and generosity are here in abundance, but that the challenges of life for people here place multiple conflicting demands upon their time and loyalties.
Prayer Requests:
Give thanks that the projects in Acholi Quarter have been running for three months and are starting to make a visible impact on peoples’ lives, and on their wider families.
For guidance as we have a big committee meeting this Thursday to evaluate the projects’ first three months. We especially seek wisdom in addressing budgetary pressures, and in responding to the patterns of student attendance – and absenteeism - we have recorded.
For the generosity of those who have relatively little and give so much, which we can all learn from.
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