It was actually sunny this morning. The sun felt warm even
at 8 AM as it shone through the broken clouds. It had been raining the last few
mornings forcing me to take a coat but today, I didn’t need one and the sun
felt GOOD. Everyone is gathering outside the trucks laughing, greeting and
handshaking. I hear “Good morning Sister Carol” many times over. “Sister” is
the title given to the few female novices and the nuns who ride with us to work
every morning. I am the only non-Sister, though they still bestow the title on
me.
The majority of the group climbs into the back of the old
military truck to go to the Good Shepherd Home. Ahh…today Sister Angelina is
here! She is a Nun who lives at St George, about ½ mile away. She comes to help
clean the chapel 3 days a week. She and I ride in the cab with the driver,
Medicine. I no longer volunteer for the back of the truck especially given my
continuing sinus infection and the ever- present risk of rain.
The Brothers all hop into the back along with a woman who
works at the center. She always insists on riding in the back of the truck even
if I am not there. It’s a funny sight to
see 13-15 young men all dressing in white robes and tan sashes or white shirts
and khaki pants riding joyfully chatting in the back of an open pick up.
The pick up is a sight in itself. I have no idea how old it
is, but it looks like it has been through the war and back. It’s what you would
expect from an old farming truck in the USA that lived through 20 years or more
of heavy labor. The windows don’t roll all the way down or up easily. The
upholstery is torn up and everything is covered with a thin layer of red dust.
Medicine starts the truck then takes out his customary used
store bought bottle of water to put in the radiator. Another Brother is always
there looking with Medicine under the hood for a few minutes of inspection (I
think also for a prayer that the truck will last another day). Medicine finally
gets in, though we don’t start rolling until we hear the hands pound on the
side of the truck…the customary sign that everyone is in and ready to go.
Medicine wouldn’t know because the mirrors are all broken and kadywhampus.
We pause near the gate when the driver of the other truck
converses tensely with Medicine. He is obviously trying to convince him of
something. I then see him point to the gas gauge and can see for myself it is
on EMPTY. I look at Medicine who does
not look at all too pleased. “Do we have enough gas to get there?” I laughingly
ask. He smiles and says, “I hope so.” “Do we need to stop for gas?” I ask. I
suppose that is a stupid statement and just me pointing out the obvious. “There
is no money in the office at the moment”, Medicine replies. “Ahhh”.
This must be one of many matters, which, is continuously
popping up. Brother Johnson told me many times when they don’t know how they
are going to get food for the kids, someone always shows up that same day with
a donation of food to cover them. He told me that this happens all of the time.
I told Medicine that I would pray that he has enough gas to get back and not
get stuck on the road. This makes him laugh.
We pass through the gate and wave to the elderly man who is
in charge of the gate. He does a slight smile and puts a flat hand up as a wave
to us though it looks more like a salute. Immediately, there are prayers. I
think I mentioned this in a prior note, but the Brothers ay a quick prayer
whenever they get in the truck to leave for work or come back. I do hope those
prayers work today!
We take a left out of the Monastery and start off
immediately navigating trenches that formed from rivulets of rain making it’s
own tracks in the dirt. The silly thing is that this place has SPEED BUMPS made
out of dirt everywhere to prevent speeding…like they can go more than 5 MPH
anyway because of the road conditions??? These bumps would be taken out or
shaved down in the USA due to complaints that everyone is bottoming out! NOW,
imagine a truck loaded with 15-18 people going over one of these things! YA….you
have to be a good driver to drive in Uganda.
We pass a few shacks of vendors selling anything from
clothing (used clothes place) old outdated snacks, some water and buckets for
washing clothes. A few goats and chickens are wandering around for good measure.
I see a mother hen and her chicks going about their day looking for creepy
crawlies in the sparse green that exists.
We turn left at the bean field. I see people dressed for
work walking around huge mud puddles left from the rains last night. The truck
does a worse job at navigating through with the mud covering at least ½ of some
of the wheels. Medicine expertly gets us through though the truck is pitched
heavily to the R as 2 wheels remain on the bank for traction and 2 in the mud
pit. No one falls out.
Several little kids are waving and shouting something.
Sister Angela interprets their broken English for me, “ Good bye Brothers! Good
By Brothers!” We pass a HUGE dump on the
Right with several roosters pecking in the mess along with a cow and a goat.
The mud turns back into hills of dirt and then finally levels out so we can go
14 MPH. I ask what road we are traveling. Medicine replies this is just the
short cut and the land belongs to someone. You would not guess it from the
amount of car and foot traffic using the road. I am surprised the owner is not
charging a toll seeing as everything costs something in Uganda.
We make it to the main road that heads to Busega , a portion
of town that appears even poorer than where we live in Mutundwe. The traffic is heavy with clouds of exhaust
from cars as old or older than our truck, people burning trash, cooking smoke
and lets not forget dust! Medicine manages an opening and we are off on
pavement (potholed but paved).
The streets are bustling with people working or on their way
to work. Bicycles and Boda Bodas travel with HUGE sacks of things tied to the
back. Most bicycles are used to transport goods. People don’t often ride them.
You will see bags and bags of fruit, veggies, produce, chickens, (alive hanging
upside down), sugar cane or you name it!
Shops dot the street consisting of old shipping containers
carrying items such as Matoke (the green banana that doesn’t taste like
anything and needs to be cooked to soften), clothing, MTN or Orange air time
cards. And even beds. The beds are some sort of hard wood left out in the
weather all day every day…OHHH YA…even upholstered sofas and chairs are sitting
out all day everyday getting rained on and dusted on. I would be very afraid of
buying anything sitting out like that!
We navigate around 1 of 2 huge traffic circles. I know we
are close to the second because I can already see the HUGE cranes flying over.
They perch on the street lamps (the only place in town that seems to have them
for night are the traffic circles) . These things are HUGE. No one seems to
like them. Even the Brothers feel they are “ugly” and “scary looking”. They are scavenger birds. I finally learned
today, from Sister Anglea , that they are there because of the fish. I finally
GET IT! I could not figure out why it smelled so bad at this corner. I now know
that this is a fish market. How could I have missed that?
We come back around after the second traffic circle after
about 12-15 min (and past the ugly scary Cranes), to travel back the same we
came but now going the opposite direction (one way traffic). We turn Left
almost immediately and head on a path that looks like it goes right into the
market.
The roads here are worse than in our section of town. There
are trucks and cars parked to the Left in some open dirt are parking lot with
people busy cleaning and soaping down their vehicles (like that is going to
make a difference). I realized week 2 that there is a public well just around
the corner. We then turn Right at the yellow house looking building with a
stucco fence of the same pale color. There is ALWAYS a huge lake puddle no
matter sunny or rainy day. We pass the public well on the Right as soon as we
turn Right.
Most of the time, there are children with huge Geri cans (containers
for water) of at least 5 gallons each, gathering water for home. Who knows how
far these guys have to lug those things. This is a BID ritual as I see them in
the afternoons as well.
Our road is now only the width of one car and one Boda Boda.
It is more residential here after
passing the woman’s health and birthing center with high stucco walls. The
faded paint says “open 24 hrs” there is also a line under that for birth
control and free HIV testing. Uganda’a version of Planned Parenthood? What a funny
place to put a center like this.
We wind and twist between old houses made of red brick ( red
clay is not in short supply here) I see partial walls making partial small
rooms lining the streets. I ask Medicine why the buildings look like they are
falling down. He tells me this is new building. People start to build a new
house but then stop when they run out of money. The house may sit there for a
year or two until more money is saved, then building resumes. The homes are small one- room brick structures
with a tin/metal roof and maybe a window.
We pass children walking to school neat and tidy in their
school uniforms (grey and white and maroon and white and some plaids). The
girls and boys wear long socks up to their knees and have black shoes. Somehow,
they all look so clean and their white’s so very white despite all of the dust
here. I have no idea how they do this!
The smaller children stand up in various stages of dressing and
wave shouting “Hello Brothers!” as they pass by. I don’t see as many men, but
the one’s I do are laying brick. We pass
by several women doing their wash in large tubs by the side of the road. The
woman are squatting or sitting on small stools working hard getting the clothes
clean and hanging them on uneven lines string from the tin roofs to nearby
trees. They don’t smile but I wouldn’t either with a big truck kicking up dirt.
We come across a young bull in the road. He is startled by
the truck and runs down the middle of the road ahead of us. He periodically steps
on the long rope tied to his neck causing him to jerk suddenly. Medicine
patiently drives behind him until a man rescues the bull by grabbing the rope
and pulling him out of the road. The goats seem to be smarter and tend to stay
out of the road.
The faces I see are round and dark. The smiles from the
children are big and literally light up the many faces we see as they pass. The
adults appear stern and focused on their task of getting to work or taking care
of shops and household things. Women are generally wearing colorful skirts and
some appear in the traditional dress, which the Europeans brought over during
colonization. I will describe more another time. People are well nourished despite the
poverty. There is no obesity though no distended bellies through famine either.
The men are lean and sinewy and show of hard physical labor.
We make our way very slowly now as there are areas that can
throw the truck and the people in it into the ditch. We come upon a gathering
of people outside the Busega Home dressed in business casual and Sunday church
clothes. I ask Medicine what they are waiting for. He replies that they are in
line to sign up for healings with Father Raymond. Father Raymond has the gift
of healing, he tells me, and prays over people. Up to 300 come to see him 3
days a week.
We then arrive at the blue gate with the faded hand painted
sign lettered in blue on a white background….”Missionaries of the Poor Busega Bethlehem
Home for disabled and abandoned boys”. How sad that one should see a sign
saying such things at all, huh?
