golomolo

All week I've been thinking about how I ought to go into business creating the anti-sleep machine. Rather than the more restful counterparts of "ocean breeze" or "rain forest" mine would be aptly entitled "huge mosquitoes buzzing outside your net all night." It'd be a surefire way to stay awake all night. DON'T steal my idea, I know it is a REALLY good one. :)

This is where the story gets good.

The past couple of nights I have been hearing a whooshing and squeaking noise all night but since there's a huge bird-filled tree just outside my window I was attributing it to that. However, that reasoning didn't explain what, in my opinion, were animal droppings that I was finding each morning on my window ledge but I'm no animal detective so I just kept my opinions mum. On Thursday night I walked into my bedroom and yup, sure enough, bats. I ended up counting eight in total, just chilling in the space above the window. Absolutely not. So under my mosquito net I sat all night, reading and writing with a head lamp that I was constantly spot lighting onto the bats and blasting "Party in the USA" on my ipod. (Go ahead and judge, there were bats in my room, I needed some America!) I notified the authorities that be yesterday morning and my room is being sprayed this weekend but- Grossssssssss!!!!! I was handling the hummingbird sized moths and lizards on my wall so well, too! I was really starting to think of myself as kind of Steve Irwin in Africa. HA!

Let's forget the bats. I'm now at my new organization, GOSSACE and other than my nocturnal visitors, it has been a really amazing experience so far.

The man who started it, Vincent, was diagnosed HIV+ in 1992 and rather than take the disease as a death sentence, he decided to educate himself about the virus that was was wiping out his peers. As the years passed, he was volunteering for various organizations, doing HIV counseling for families, and just trying to stay involved in the HIV community. One day a street child approached him in Kampala and introduced himself as the child of two now deceased patients whom Vincent had counseled; slowly Vincent began to realize that the cities here are crawling with street children who were orphaned by AIDS and were now begging and starving to stay alive. So, in 2000, regardless of the fact that he had no money or other resource, he found 30 kids and brought them east to a town called Golomolo. The struggle was immense, he initially kept the children dry with plastic bags and found himself walking 30 kilometers into the nearest town each day to try and find money for food. The first thing I noticed about Vincent upon meeting him is that his vision is unshakable and his faith never wavers.

Eventually grass huts were built and small plots of land have allowed for some sustainable farming but feeding these, now 150, kids is a constant struggle. I find myself giving away much of my food because the sight of the kids walking by with nothing more than a plate of poshu and a couple of beans is too much to handle. Plus, most children I talk to are usually four or five years older than their size would suggest; while for some their size is an unfortunate side effect of being HIV+, in most it is simple malnutrition at play.

I have never been made to feel so welcome by a group that has so little.

The kids are so tender and anxious for any type of affection. A little boy named Stewart comes to my room each night to teach me new Lugandan vocabulary words; finding a spot to hold on my hand is akin to finding a sweet piece of beachfront property, there's nothing like those little groping hands being wet, too - special surprise; I have pen pal letters from three girls who like to come by to brush my hair, amazed at how soft it is. Every child there has a shaved head and I just don't have the heart to tell them that the "softness" is grease and my brush has gotten more use in the past week than it has over the entirety of the rest of my time in Uganda. (Stop shaking your head knowingly, Sophia! :))
Regardless of their sweetness, there's clearly a very injured streak running through these children, a feeling of having been abandoned - a palpable sadness. Who can blame them? Living on the street and being HIV+ is a lot for an eight year old to deal with; it's also a lot for a 28 year old to get her head around.
I've spent much of the week trying to bond with and gain the trust of the students. I've been teaching classes on setting goals and staying healthy; yeah, I even assigned homework. I'm a hard teacher.
I've also sat in on some classes and while these are far and away the best teachers I've seen here, I made the mistake of sitting in on an English class - it just isn't something a native speaker should do. I didn't want to correct the teacher in front of his students, so I've resolved to keep my language out of his business. Additionally, I sat in on a 7th grade social studies class all about the slave trade. Talk about really feeling like the jack ass responsible for your entire continent. We should all apologize to Liberia, not only for the slave trade but also for saddling them with the dubious honor of being the only other country not on the metric system.

Much of my time has been spent with the nurse, too, talking about malaria and HIV; helping to administer ARV's to the HIV+ students, pills that are bigger than their little bodies, was surreal....You're telling me THIS is the face of AIDS in Africa?
As for malaria, it's extremely problematic at GOSSACE because of the remote location and fairly wet conditions; but also the students, who sleep THREE to a bed, don't have mosquito nets.

Many afternoons I've assisted in the construction of an irrigation pipeline for the school's crops. Helping entails hauling, up hill, bricks. Literally, brick by brick and I'm the only one not carrying those suckers on my head :)

Being out at the school, unattached from the world that I've come to know in Uganda, has been so refreshing. Seeing these teachers and people who have bypassed the city life in exchange for a quiet and removed existence, dedicated to their cause. It has reminded me that with all the different tracks one can take, all the ups and downs in life, in the end all that should really count is making something beautiful out of your life. Finding a type of beauty that fits YOU, just like an old pair of favorite shoes.

Happiest of days,
Fran-E

And, of course, how about those Spartans :) I was awake throughout the whole time the game was being played...looking at the ceiling. I thought of it as solidarity. Go green!