THE RIDE TO WORK

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?