We get up in the morning and go to Namuwongo, the biggest slum in Kampala. The slum is illegal, and living there are refugees who have fled from their homes – each for their own different reasons and each has their own different life story. We go there every morning with a group of 70 kids dressed in dirty, torn clothes. There’s no fear that we won’t recognise any of the kids the next day because the clothes – they don’t change. Each kid has on average two sets of clothes so that we already know off by heart what belongs to who, on what days and where the tears are. And we can always tell if there’s a new stain, which there always is.
The school, if you can call it that, is a brick building with four corners. The school doesn’t have a roof, and maybe that’s why I’m always burnt from the strong African sun that sits overhead 12 hours a day, minus the hour a day when it rains, when we have no choice but to send the kids home because there isn’t any shelter.
We collected donations, through generous people and through selling necklaces that the women of Namuwongo make for a living. The money from the donations was meant to establish a nice, new, permanent building for the school. The building work has already slowly started.
With us at the school work four more local volunteer teachers, only two of who are really dedicated to the work. What can you do - it’s tough being efficient and consistent at something when you know you’re not going to get anything in return.
In our lessons with the kids, we draw with them, create, teach games. It’s needless to say that the kids’ sense of rhythm is the most amazing thing in the world. It’s just a shame that it gets lost in the squalor. From our side, we’re teaching them a few Scouts and playscheme songs in English, and all day kids follow us and hum the songs.
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Once a week we aid the doctors and give the children treatment against Tinea (a head fungal infection). Every time we go to a different area in Namuwongo, collect all the kids and smear (with gloves of course) some cream on their head. The instructions to the parents on how to carry on the treatment we already know how to say in Luganda, and we can only hope they continue with the treatment.
Every week the doctors have a free clinic in an isolated area outside of Kampala. While they’re in the clinic, we go between the schools in the area and give out vitamins or worming tablets. Worms exist everywhere in Uganda and it’s known that about 90% of the population has them. That’s why they need to take 5 pills every six months. We mark every child who gets a pill so that they don’t come back but they, being children, think it’s a sweet despite the bad taste, wash off the mark and come back.
Kampala is a cool city. It has places to go out at night, there are restaurants, pubs, clubs - really a city that doesn’t sleep. It’s really worthwhile living here, in the new, different culture. It’s easy to get by here, most people know basic English and are eager to help whenever you need them to, the transport is very easy (there’s always either a ‘matato’, which is a big van into which 20 people more than is legal are crowded into, or you can take a ‘boda’ which is a motorbike with a driver. You sit behind him and surprisingly, here the number of passengers isn’t limited either!
One day when we were in Ahautritch we saw a boy whose hand had become joined at a 90 degree angle as a result of a burn, and he couldn’t move it. We immediately sent the boy to the clinic and the doctor discovered that the boy has suffered from epilepsy all his life and he has an attack at least once a day. The burn happened about a year ago when he had a seizure and fell into the fire, and since then the kid has been walking around like this.
The doctor gave the mother medicine that stopped the attacks and me and Yasmin took him to Kampala today to have the surgery tomorrow that will improve his life in such a significant way, and take him through rehabilitation and physiotherapy.
And that’s just one story out of the many you meet here. The people don’t ask for anything, but when you see the situation it’s hard not to give as much of yourself as you can. You get addicted to work, to the kids, to the place, and you just continue, and don’t stop saying thank you that you were born somewhere else. That you were lucky, and the only thing you can do now… is to help those that weren’t as lucky.
The aim is to make a difference, but not too much, to help as much as you can, to contribute, but more than everything – to be there and to show you care…
From Hadar.
To support the school in Namuwongo please donate here
