Anna (not her real name)

Anna is four years old and lives in a suburb outside of Kampala. She is the youngest of five siblings, born to HIV+ parents. Anna’s parents died when she was 3 years old, leaving her and her siblings in the care of her elderly grandmother.

Anna was shifted to Kampala to stay with her auntie when it was discovered that she was being neglected at her grandmother’s place. However, as her auntie worked during the day, Anna was also given little care at this new house, and was often locked out of the house during the day while her auntie worked. She was left with very little food and no certain shelter when rain came.

Anna’s younger auntie, Sherene, who is 15 years old, saw that Anna kept getting sick. She knew that Anna’s parents died of HIV and decided to bring her to Mengo’s pediatric HIV clinic for testing. Anna was indeed HIV+, and was enrolled for care in the pediatric clinic.

Anna was also enrolled in Mengo’s children’s club. Children’s Club meets one Saturday each month, and pays for school fees and uniforms for all children who are members. Anna’s young auntie Sherene who first brought her to Mengo comes with her as a caretaker, but as she is quite young herself, enjoys time with the older girls in children’s club. She is really smart and loves to share in all the teaching and playing the other kids enjoy at Children’s club.

The head of children’s club (Dorothy) at Mengo went to the primary school where Anna is in “baby class” to pay school fees—she found Anna in class but without a uniform. The school is composed of several ramshackle buildings surrounding a central courtyard. Even before entering the courtyard, however, one can hear the shouts and laughter of the 100+ children at the school, busy at their learning. One teacher is doing an English lesson with her children; she can be heard calling loudly, “WHERE are you going?” and the children’s response “We are GOING to SCHOOL.” These question and answer game/lessons are the staple of nursery school here, and a single question/answer may be repeated over and over until all the children have mastered it. Another class is singing an exuberant song, and in yet another classroom the teacher is trying in vain to get the attention of her young charges.

The headmaster’s room is cluttered with several desks, boxes of uniforms and supplies, bags of rice and maize flour, books, papers, and in one corner, a sleeping child on a mattress. He gladly fetches Anna from her classroom, and she comes in shyly, dressed in a torn red and yellow dress that is several sizes too big and the requisite sturdy black shoes worn by all school children. Dorothy asks her in Luganda if she recognizes us—Anna nods but doesn’t speak. Dorothy then instructs her to come and greet us (one of the first lessons learned by all Ugandan children as soon as they can walk and talk—the importance of formally greeting elders). She shakes my hand and silently greets me.

Dorothy asks about the uniform. The headmaster says they do have pinafores at the moment but no blouses. He brings a navy-blue jumper with the logo of the school printed in white letters on the front. Anna is summarily stripped of her dress and redressed in the pinafore. She strokes the front of her new uniform, but still doesn’t say anything. The subject of sweater is raised (the rainy season and many morning year-round are cold for Ugandans—the sweater is a key part of the school uniform.) Next comes sportswear—blue shorts and a bright red tee-shirt are produced from a box and Namata is again stripped, and redressed in her sportswear. At this point she begins to smile, obviously pleased at her good fortune to be the owner of beautiful new clothes.

Dorothy tells Anna that she is expected to come to children’s club this Saturday dressed in her uniform, and we say goodbye to her and to the headmaster, thanking him for his help. Anna goes back to her classroom, with her old dress and the new pinafore in a polythene bag clutched at her side. With her school fees paid for the term, she has a place to stay during the day while her Auntie is working, and will be fed and kept warm when it rains.

Book Club

Every other Sunday afternoon finds me at my alltime favorite in-uganda activity: book club! For those of you just joining us, the idea of book club was born during a fit of insomnia last fall-it seemed like a great idea at 3:00AM--make friends, read, do something social occasionally..when i woke up, however, I realized that the idea was fraught with problems. First and foremost--I had no friends!! And no more than one copy of any one book.

The dream became real, though, over tea with a coworker (Phoebe) and her friend John. We confessed to each other our love for reading and miraculously--they also wanted to start a book club! Our plans were slowed a bit when John was hit by a drunk driver in November and suffered severe trauma to the head and a really bad broken leg (among other injuries). Happily, and thanks be to God, he is doing really well now and even walking, and working, and looking forward to the surgery that will replace all the teeth that got knocked out.

So we started meeting in December, with a few high-spirited members, a lot of ideas, and absolutely no clue how to get books. There is one high-priced bookstore here in kampala, many street vendors selling used books (of varying genres and quality)--as approximately 42% of our club was either unemployed or volunteering, buying full-priced books was not an option. We have opted for the sharing model, which works well to some extent but requires that we spend about 2 months on each book, and more depending on how long it is. Currently we are reading "We were the Mulvaneys" by Joyce Carol Oates for the simple reason that there were four copies on sale for 7000/= each (about $3.50) and I knew there was a copy in the MCC library. Five copies among 12 members is difficult but we are managing.

We meet without fail every two weeks--there is a garden in the center of town owned by the Sheraton hotel that is open to the public. So we gather, drag together a bunch of benches, break out the biscuits (cookies) and water (refreshments are a key part of our strategy for winning new members)..and start our book-related activity.

We have tried photocopying short stories to read, reading aloud short stories, discussing books (when we actually have them), and most recently, creative writing. Yesterday was our first attempt at a "writing workshop," we each brought a poem or prose in which we used a metaphor. There was a lot of laughter, as most of the members have not experimented with creative writing before, and many interruptions and editorial comments, and no end to the questions for each budding author.

Highlights included one creative member using the metaphor of winter (though she had never experienced one)for hardness and coldness of heart; a poem called "the traffic jam" or "taxi to the maxi" or "matatus suck" (the title was still under debate) using the metaphor of gridlock to talk about situations we get ourselves into but can't seem to make the decision to get out and walk; and a great poem about money by our member who is a banker.

For me, this book club is a great source of joy. Even though we spend the majority of most meetings just eating and talking, it has provided good friends who encourage and bless me with their exuberance for life and passion to see their country change for the better. They dream of taking long field-trips with the club up to IDP camps in the north, to share books and read with kids in the camps. It seems a long shot (our combined "fees" for the last four months have hit a grand total of 35,000/= or $16 US) but it could be possible.

I am so thankful for those of you who have sent books--we will soon be reading the chronicles of narnia (my relatives combined their collections and sent me quite a few copies from that series!) and To Kill a mockingbird (not, as it was first thought-HOW to kill a mockingbird)--thanks to JKB/H and CMH : ) !!

Many blessings as you read this week!