No Cars Go

We know a place where no planes go

We know a place where no ships go



(Hey!) No cars go

(Hey!) No cars go

Where we know



We know a place no space ships go

We know a place where no subs go



(Hey!) No cars go

(Hey!) No cars go

Where we know



(Hey!)
(Hey!)
(Go... Now go!)



(Hey!) Us kids know

(Hey!) No cars go

Where we know



Between the click of the light and the start of the dream

Between the click of the light and the start of the dream

Between the click of the light and the start of the dream

Between the click of the light and the start of the dream



Little babies, let's go

Women and children, let's go

Old folks, let's go

Don't know where we're goin'
But, let’s go…

From the Lives of Children

I thought I would write one of my last posts the same way I did one of my first, with a description of the children. It has been impossible to put into words all that these children are and part of me feels it is something that can only be truly shared by those who have been here, those, like myself, who have had a glimpse of their joy, caring, and innocence.

So, I will let the pictures speak as I bounce around to different topics. Here are children imagining, well, can you guess?







Sometimes I never know with them what I am getting myself into. I still remember a very strange song from one of my first weeks here…


I still can’t figure out this game that Kato and Segawa always play.



If you remember, I asked for input about games for the kids a month in. They love dominoes, memory, and, most recently, checkers. However, the biggest hit has been simply coloring and drawing (I should have figured that out earlier!) Here are the kids at one of their mass gatherings.



Here is the artist formerly known as Job. Notice the three-dimensional door and what is most likely the largest pig in the world.



A couple of weeks ago I stumbled upon a group of the younger children “hiding” around the corner of their home. The guilty look that Esther gives me here translates into all languages. They were hoarding some fruit that they found and were meticulously counting each berry out as to divide the spoils.



Last week, I heard an uproar as I was working on something in the guest house. Five minutes later I went outside to see what the excitement was about. There was no one, not one African child anywhere in sight. This was strange as it was well after school. I did hear noises, though, and followed them behind the cooking hut. I ran into this scene.



All the children were given sugar cane to eat. I still can’t figure out how they can stand it. It is pure sugar concentrate that they suck on. Have I ever mentioned that it would be good to have another dental team come?

I realize now I never posted about the zoo. We were able to take the older children a couple of months back due to a generous donation that was given. Thank you. Both the children and I will never forget those two days. Some of the kids had never been out of this town and others had never been in a van. They all saw animals they had never seen before and the highlight, unanimously, was the chimpanzees. I also have a story about risking crocodiles to see ostriches but I will leave it at that so to not risk looking like a bad chaperone…






The children have different work projects around the property (many of which seem to be right outside my window early in the morning). They hoe, plant food, clean their homes, help with meals, and wash clothes. Despite all this, they are willing to help with extra projects as Brian and Segewa (“Boy”) demonstrate here.



On top of all these things, the children love to sing and dance. Almost every time I visit the homes before bed they perform for me. Every Saturday you can find most of them practicing in the shade of a large tree for church the next day. Here is a video of them practice (I hope it works!):


The final result…




A couple of children’s stories…

Amos, the groundskeeper here, is newly married and has a small baby. He just moved to the property here and it is great as he is closer and no longer has to pay rent. However, relatives heard about this and his sister sent one of her sons to live with him despite the fact that he is in a one room home!

When he arrived, the boy was malnourished and had a large chip on his shoulder. I saw quickly, though, how a loving family and a bit of discipline can change a child. He is now one of my favorite kids here (keep in mind, my favorites seem to change every week) and always has a smile on his face. You can find him either digging in the field, carrying water, or playing with Geoffrey’s kids. His name is Alex.




I saw him wearing this the other day and mentioned to Amos that there are some extra clothes that he could have. Things were lost in translation and two minutes later Alex came out strutting, wearing Dora the Explorer pants and a sweatshirt with a roller hockey player on it. I have nicknamed him “Hockey” ever since.



Just before I arrived, a small child was brought here to the property. I later discovered that he was rescued from a step-mother who was using him as collateral to get money from his father, who had left her. The boy was in rough shape and was said to be HIV-positive. He was withdrawn and emotionless the first time I met him.

It has been a wild four months, to say the least, and I have seen him change slowly. He is still unsure in some situations but he is smiling, talking, and the other day I experienced him taking his first steps, something I wanted to see before I left.

So, anyways, the great news. They took him to the hospital the other day and they ran some new tests. Based on what they are saying now, he is actually HIV-negative. As they say here, Praise God. His name is Zawa, but the kids soon after arrival renamed him Mukisa, which means blessed.






More to come…

Girl in the War

Peter said to Paul: You know all those words we wrote?
Just the rules of the game, and the rules are the first to go
Now talking to God is Laurel begging Hardy for a gun
Got a girl in the war, man I wonder what it is we've done

Paul said to Peter: You gotta rock yourself a little harder
Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire
Got a girl in the war, son the only thing I know to do
Turn up the music and pray that she makes it through

Because the keys to the kingdom seem locked inside the kingdom
And the angels fly around in there, but we can't see them
Got a girl in the war, Paul I know they can hear me yell
If they can't find a way to help her, they can go to hell


Paul said to Peter: You gotta rock yourself a little harder
Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire
Got a girl in the war, Paul her eyes are like champagne
They sparkle, bubble over, and in the morning all you've got is rain


-Josh Ritter

The Neighborhood II & III

Everyone around here seems connected in one way or another. I am constantly surprised when I find out who are related. This is Isaiah.



His grandfather is William, who I wrote about in a previous post, and his sister is Harriet, one of the girls here who is HIV positive. He lives just down the hill from me and has always been so great to me when I go visit. To him, I am always “Brother Shaun”.

He is newly married and works odd jobs in the community, whether it be making bricks, growing crops or helping with building projects. The last time I visited, he took me to the “magical” giant tree I kept asking him about by his house. Here it is.


It is also where everyone in the community gets their water. While we were there, there were children coming and going. For some reason, this moment hit me harder than anything the past few weeks. It struck me even more when I realized how difficult it was to trek the full jerry cans back up to his house.



Here is a family from the church. They are David, Ruth, and the 6 D’s kids. They remind me of the Vantrapp family as they are all extremely musical. The last time I went over for lunch, the children put on a dance number for me and David played the guitar. They then proceeded to ask me to sing, for some reason believing that all mzungus are good singers. I didn’t belt out a tune but I did bring a coco plant to share as you can see on the table.



I am trying really hard with Dustin, their youngest, as he is completely terrified of me. The other day I was visiting and I guess he didn’t see me come in. When he came around the corner to see his mom, he literally fell over when he saw me and crawled out of the room as fast as he could.


This is Vincent, a favorite of almost anyone who has come here from Canada. He is 85 but it doesn’t show. He is full of life and has actually taken to learning some English. You can hear him almost everyday working down at the quarry below where I am living. Here is a shot of him breaking up rock after he has hauled it up.




Last Sunday, Vincent brought all the grandchildren on stage during the church service to celebrate the return of his oldest grandson. Though translation, it seemed to be some kind of prodigal son moment and everyone cheered as he was introduced. The two smallest, Immaculate and Cissy (C.C.), are girls here at the children’s home. Vincent, at his age, cannot take care of all of them so thankfully they were selected a couple of years ago.

When I got here, I was immediately drawn to these two sisters simply by their love for life. Immaculate is at the older girls home and is the actress of the bunch. Her mzungu impersonation is always hilarious. Here is a shot that someone took of her (on the left) laughing with Joyce and Rachel.




Cissy, the youngest, on the other hand, is shy and I had to scroll almost back to my first week here to find a shot of her. Though reserved, I guarantee if you met her she would make you smile.



A Couple of Stories:



Jeff tells our elephant safari story pretty well.



On Sunday, I went down to the Masembe’s (the Ugandan family who started this whole project) house to visit. I am always happy to go down the hill as there is always something new going on. This Sunday there were half a dozen kids separating strands of used paper. When I asked, they told me they were making paper that they could use to sell as cards or for school. “Hmm,” I thought, “making your own paper.” Imagine if we made kids in Canada do the same before every term!

Anyways, one of the reasons that there always seems to be at least 15-20 people at the Masembe’s is that they are the only people in the area with power and a television. This Sunday was no expectation and Michael (the father) wanted me to join them in watching a movie. He gave me two choices, both from 1994, and I chose Accidental Twins simply because of the name. It didn’t have Devito or Schwarzenegger but I soon realized it was, literally, an educational film. I can’t imagine in Canada going to the video store on a Friday night and asking what new movies they had on planned parenting. But, hey, Michael assured me it was one of his favorites.

It was a local film and the unintentional comedy was through the roof, including the lines, “I am poor, besides, paying five cows for your daughter is against my religion”, “If you talk to me again I’ll kick you” and “I’ll tell you what I told the last five women that came to me looking for money, I’m not the father.”

I thought this couldn’t be topped. However, when Michael switched off the movie, on the television was a game show that tested how well couples knew each other. That was fine except it was sponsored by “A Good Life”, a Ugandan organization that promotes healthy living. That meant that there was a round about STD’s and the final challenge consisted of questions about condoms and spinning a wheel to win prizes including a mattress, mosquito net, and a jerry can. You just can’t make this stuff up.


More to come…

Plastic Bags

That’s all they wanted, a dozen stupid plastic bags. Yesterday, I was excited as we were giving out shirts and sandals sent from Canada to the kids here. It doesn’t seem like much but you know the cliché. Anyways, they were all excited as we somehow managed to hand out everything without getting trampled. The kids were all very thankful and polite as they looked over their new stuff.

As we were finishing up, Laurence came up to me and asked if he could have the two ripped plastic bags I had in my hand. I gave them to him, wondering what he was up to. The next thing I knew I was surrounded by the rest of the older boys asking if I had more. I assured them that I did back in the guest house and felt like the pied piper as I led them across the property. I grabbed a dozen, stored up from the last few shopping trips, and handed them out. I overheard one of the boys say esomero (school) when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

None of these boys had school packs. A few of the kids do and carry others’ supplies, but for the most part everyone just hopes it doesn’t rain. So, when I gave them the bags, they were ecstatic, unexpectedly more so than when they got the clothes. However, there was one boy, Frank, the youngest, who was visibly distraught. I asked Laurence what was the matter. He showed me where Frank’s bag was torn, right on the handle. I went back inside, found another, and saw Frank’s face light up as I gave him this new prize.

As soon as they were all satisfied, they ran off waiving their bags victoriously in the air. I was only able to snap one pick to remind myself the surreal scene that just took place. A dozen used plastic bags, that’s all they needed.





More to come...

Canadian Family Dycks

I had the privilege of going to visit a family from my home church that spent four months here in mpigi and are now spending three years at a large school/medical/community planning center in another district of the country. It was a privilege as it gave me time to talk with those who have shared this experience and, frankly, gave me some time to recharge. Jeff is the kind of guy that I can sit down and have a beer with, Shannon is very kind and a great cook, and their four kids are full of life but each in a unique way.

Here is Jeff with Kato (from Mpigi):



Here is Shan with Christine (from Mpigi) and their new daughter in the background:


Here is Shan with the kids at their home:



So, I traveled to their home last week, which involved three “taxi” transfers, chickens tied underfoot, and no English until Jeff picked me up halfway. Oh, I also experienced my first bone dry engine breakdown. Jeff had borrowed a truck that, I guess, the owner had not checked the coolant of in a long time. So, that was interesting.

The Dycks live at what I can only describe as a large compound. As I mentioned, it is a school for over 800 sponsored children, a trade school, a large medical clinic, and a community services center which includes a micro loan program. They are a bit more developed than here in mpigi and I was able to relax with hot water!, a freezer with food, and wireless internet. I apologize as I didn’t take many pics…



A couple of stories:

Jeff loves football and has played since he was young. He is in charge of all the building projects and, therefore, was invited to play on the builder’s football team. (That and he buys all the biscuits and drinks) When I was there they had a game against the teachers.

This is a big rivalry as Jeff explained to me that last game the teachers walked off the field because they felt the builders were putting a new player on the field who was a ringer (which he wasn’t). In response, after the referee settled the teachers down, the builders themselves walked off the field in protest. All over a friendly game, I love it!

So, normally I would root for the teachers except that the builders are considered the lesser class, the untrustworthy, the “bad guys”. This was apparent at the game as most of the 200 people watching were rooting for the teachers. So, I ended up rooting for the builders and, thanks to Jeff’s two goals, they won 3-0. Did I mention some players on their team don’t have shoes? It was a great night as all of us were laughing and having a good time.

Can you spot Jeff?

The second day I was there I was sitting under a tree reading when an older mzunugu man came running up shouting that there is a large fire and the bees are in danger of being destroyed. The bees? And you are who to order me to fight your forest fire?

Luckily, Jeff came over when he heard the commotion and explained, as he handed me a broomstick, that there was brushfire and the man had sponsored a honey project a couple of years back. He said I was welcome to relax as there were other people already on their way. “No way,” I told him, “count me in.”

So we were off. Yes, there was a fire. And, yes, it was spreading. But, fortunately, it was almost out when we got there. And the brooms? I cannot stress this enough. Don’t try to fight a fire with a broom, especially just a broom handle. After the excitement, we had to laugh as we did see people breaking branches off of trees as they were heading towards the blaze but were too ignorant with our "tools". The branches worked much better.

What else did I learn as an ignorant mzunugu? Don’t fight fire while standing downwind. Also, trust your gut when another mzunugu comes running to you in a panic. The fire was at least a kilometer away from his prized bees.

Oh, Blog It...

Motorcycle Ride to Town...Still Alive
Waiting For The Internet To Work...Commonplace
The Power Going Out While Waiting...Frustating
Realizing You Forgot To Load Your Post on Your Memory Stick...Rrrggg

Only three weeks left, I can't believe it. Would love to hear from you. I know from conversations that people are reading the blog but, if you could, leave a comment to remind me I'm not just writing to myself!

It's been one of those days..

Clown Cars, Burials, & The Nile

When I got the opportunity to drive and see a new part of the country as well as to see the Nile river I knew I had to jump on the chance. So, last Sunday Nelson and I headed from Mpigi to Jinja.

Now, where to begin? This story has so many directions I can go with it as it was a wild day. Hmm… let’s start with the drive. Originally, it was Nelson and I driving together. Then, the day before, he asked me if his two sons could go. Later, Amos, the maintenance guy at the children’s home, said he had never been to Jinja and asked if he could come. So, 5 people, the car was full.

As I mentioned in my last post, Nelson lives in Kampala so we had to drive to get him. But, when I arrived at his house, his wife was also waiting. Tragically, her father had died the night before just outside of Jinja. So, a child sitting on a lap later and we were off.

Of course, this added some pressure as I had never driven in the capital before, a city with exactly two traffic lights. However, we somehow made it out and began traveling east. About 30 minutes in, Nelson turns to me and asks if we could give his wife’s sister a ride as she is on the way to Jinja. “Why not?” I thought and we stopped in the next town. So, another child sitting on a lap and we were off.

However, 100m ahead Nelson told me to stop. I guess his wife had seen another sister that was walking to catch a taxi. “Why not?” I thought again. A child on a lap, a child in the trunk, four adults in the back seat, and we were off.

We stopped for “eats”, which means we just stopped at the side of the road and 20 people in white coats came running up to our car with bottled water, mystery meat on a stick, and bbqed bananas in tow. We then traveled through a huge forest (Nelson’s words) that was 3km long and by the largest Coke plant and sugar cane plant in East Africa. We were almost in Jinga when we stopped again. Nelson gets out, disappears into a market, and comes back with another person. His brother, he tells me. A child on a lap, a child in the trunk, five adults in the back seat, and we were off.

The way back was much more comfortable as the kids, aunts, and mom were dropped off. However, driving back through a city of 1.5 million people in the dark was interesting to say the least. I only “almost” lost a side view mirror (thank you hinges). Some things I learned to watch out for in the future were three point turns in the middle of busy streets, broken down trucks blocking traffic for miles, and “suicidal” motorcycle drivers. Fun!



So, as we were in Jinja that day, I attended my first burial/mourning. For these, People come from all over and can spend several days. The body of the deceased is laid out in the house for all to see and wailing can be heard late into the night. It was difficult to experience at first. But, after a while, it just felt right. We tend to “stuff it” don’t we? We are asked to “be strong”. I remembered a teacher once telling me that people in cultures that openly mourn actually, in the long run, do better at dealing with loss. I was beginning to believe him. The memory of the shots on television of mothers in middle eastern countries weeping over the death of their children just got a lot less strange.

After we left the burial, we traveled to a local church at which I taught. Of course, because of the unexpected death, we were late and I was almost immediately whisked to the front. Oh, did I mention they wanted me to speak for an hour?! It actually turned out to be great fun and I was even able to experience the announcement of an engagement. You wouldn’t believe the screams of joy, people jumping up and down, and women literally fanning the soon to be bride as if to say she is too hot! Here are a couple of shots of the event:




Soon after we motored out of town we turned of the main road and went what seemed like forever down a unkept path. We ended up here, rapids near the source of the Nile.




Amos, Nelson, and his brother stood and stared at the rapids for quite a long time. They had never seen water like this, the power and volume was overwhelming. The were shocked even further when they saw guys who, if paid a few dollars, would go over the rapids while clinging to an empty jerry can. I had to drag them away after an hour as the sun was setting. It was a marathon day, but one I will never forget.





A story…

I never mentioned this, but a few weeks ago one of the youth in the area got funding to film a music video for his album. So, the whole church community got involved and practiced acting and dancing for days on end. They filmed all over the area and this week the time had arrived to unveil the edited video that would hopefully go into rotation on Ugandan television. I was planning for something “interesting”.


The video was set to premiere on the property at 5:00. I hurried to finish the teaching I was doing as people began to slowly trickle in. 5:30, 6:00, 6:30 rolled by without any video. There must have been 100 people there but no one seemed to mind. About an hour in, music began to play and a small boy, no older than 3, began to dance on the stage. He was amazing and everyone stood and cheered for him. He must have danced for a half an hour without pulling out the same move twice. Once he finished, almost as if was organized, 50 people began a dance party in the back of the building that lasted for an hour.

At 7:00, an announcement was made that the video would be there “soon”, maybe five minutes. So, we waited another half an hour and decided to go up for dinner and for a child to run up to get us when the video arrived. At 8:30, a full three and half hours after the advertised time, the videos started.

The reason I say videos is that I guess people don’t make one video, they make a video for each song on the album! The first two videos I got what I planned for. The third wasn’t bad and the last one had something to do with staying in school or you will end up as a farmer for the rest of your life, a good lesson I guess. For some reason, much of the cinema was footage from a film about a white Jesus interspersed with traditional dancing, guys busting a move with their shirts off, and older women in traditional clothing. However, after seeing some local videos on television since then, it was definitely above par.

I think what I will remember most is the waiting, how no one seemed to care, and the random dance party, where everyone found something fun to do. A different culture, for sure.


More to come…

Mpigitown Community

Ah, the second post for today. I thought I would make up for last week. Here is the building where the Mpigitown Church meets.





Simply put, I love it. I enjoy meeting there and I love looking out to the sky while singing and praying. It is great squeezing in on benches and having children come to sit with you. I love the openness as you can hear what is happening inside from down on the main street. People come up and look through the cracks in the wood to see what is happening. It is strange, but practical, that a cow grazes out front (no need to cut the grass or fertilize it!). The dirt floors are humbling and I am beginning to grow a dislike for carpeted church meeting places.

Yesterday, I was teaching and learning from the “youth” here. (The youth is age 19-30) We met for over three hours, which is normal. But, what happened next, is something I will never forget. After about half of the people left, a few of the “youth” began to teach me how to use the base drum. This turned into what I can only describe to Canadians as a dance party. There are traditional dances from every tribe in Uganda and each one has a different song. So, they danced and danced. Then, one of the wives left and came back in with a giant bucket that she proceeded to dish out of. It was pork and, as I explained in a previous post, an honor to eat as meat is scarce. So, I pitched in and bought a case of sodas. Everyone cheered and hollered. We had a great time partaking together and we even invited a couple people we ran into on the street on the way to get drinks.



This was fellowship. I learned a lot from their love and generosity. What would this look like in Canada? Can’t we be so boring sometimes, especially as the church! Like I said, it was a joy filled evening that I will never forget.

This is Nelson, the pastor of the church in town. He is in his 50’s but looks in his 30’s. It is humbling to be teaching him to say the least. The picture I took is of his family in Kampala, where they live. Nelson commutes out this way as the live on government sponsored land and have free rent. It is always a state of restlessness, though, as the government can come in anytime and take the land from the people and simply demolish the houses.




Both Nelson and his wife, Irene, speak excellent English. She especially fluent and corrects him sometimes when he translates for me. As you can see, they have five children. The youngest, Joseph, is always at my side when I go to visit, even though he doesn’t understand much English. All the kids are in school and Nelson and I are going to visit a couple of them at boarding school when we go to Jinga, a city on the Nile River.

Nelson is who I travel into the bush with. He seems to know everyone. Actually, he is described by Geoffrey as (cue Schwarzenegger voice) “The Mobilizer”. He is always full of energy and excited for our “programs”. Everything is a program here. If you want to ask what someone is doing that day, you ask them what their program is. I learned this early on as I didn’t want a translator up front during church services. I explained this to Geoffery several times to no avail. Scott then suggested to tell him that it was my “program” to listen without a translator. The next Sunday, no translator.

A couple of stories…

Football with the boys has been even more enjoyable recently. We laugh a lot and I am going to miss it immensely when I leave. I have even started to play a bit with the little ones as they come back from school early. I keep forgetting that they are 4,5,6 years old as they play like they are teenagers.

So, I said we laugh a lot more. Mainly, we are now able to laugh at each other when we mess up. Sometimes the boys (or myself) shoot way off target. Sometimes they (or I) miss the ball completely. The other day, one boy missed and ripped his pants. Another missed and fell right on his butt.

Also, I have taught them a new phrase, “he is sleeping”. During one of our games I shot it from the other end of the field as I realized that the goalie was lying on the ground. He scrambled to catch up to the incoming ball but to no avail. I said, “the goalie was sleeping” and it is now used whenever someone is not paying attention.





So, the story. Last weekend it was a tie game, 3-3. The sun was going down and we didn’t have much time. I stretched a pass to one of the strikers who almost scored but a defender kicked the ball out at the last second. So, we had a throw in near the goal. The kids always try to get me to throw in as I can throw the farthest. I am glad I did this time, as it gave me a perfect view for what happened next.

I saw Laurence running the front of the goal and I heaved the ball as hard as I could at his feet. He turned to kick it when suddenly a white chicken came out of nowhere onto the field, almost as if it was chasing the ball. Well, Laurence booted what he thought was the winning goal. Instead, we heard a loud squawk as a mass of feathers went flying into the air. We must have all laughed for the next five minutes as the sun continued to set.



I feel strange carrying around a camera here. I never did at home and it makes me feel like I am a tourist. As well, it is dangerous to take pics in certain places as someone will either try to steal your camera or ask for money because they are in your picture. This is why I want to share about the craziness of the taxi park and its hundreds of vans but only have some “hidden” pics so far. This is also why I am having trouble taking pictures of town here. I think I might take some on Thursday as I will be hiring a boda. We can zoom off if anyone comes to confront me.

So, that being said, the kids here love the camera. It is hard to get a pic in without them posing. Now, with digital camera displays, they all want to see themselves as well. This fact has led me to befriend some kids that seemed to want nothing to do with me. Shafik is one of those kids. Whenever I would talk to him he would shy away. However, one day I went and sat beside him on a log. I pulled out my camera and took a picture of us together. I showed him the shot and his face changed instantly. He began to laugh and talk with me. Now, whenever I see him, he comes up to me and says hello. Here is the pic of “Fiki” and I.





More to come…