Another Day, Another Project

Early this morning I travelled with Fr. Gene Hattie to St. John's School in Nsumba (about 48 km South of Kampala). It seems that each person I meet here is involved with yet another crucial service site or project (many with non-profit groups and organizations) and is working desperately in an attempt to better people's lives, homes, education, health, etc. Truthfully, the number of projects becomes a bit overwhelming. There is so much need. In most cases, using the phrase "bettering people's lives" doesn't quite translate to an American understanding of life. Most of the work raises the level of care to an American substandard of living. I don't think many can even imagine the original circumstances, and still wouldn't if they were written here. So, it is a bit obvious where this is heading even before I begin focusing on the site I filmed today.

Arriving at St. John's was a journey in itself. It is located far off of the main roads and requires some off road "hold onto anything you can, so you don't fly out the window" type driving. Immediately, it becomes apparent that just getting children to school is a difficult endeavor. This seems to be true in many of the rural schools, as well as the rural clinics. Many of the children walk quite a distance on their own, along streets that most parents in the U.S. would not dream of allowing their children on. These are the kids with homes and families (or at least partial ones). The rest of the children at the school are orphans. Some orphaned as a result of AIDS, others poverty, still others for any number of reasons. The school is home to some 350 orphans (ranging from infants to teenagers), all needing shelter, food, clothing, education and health care (not to mention love and affection). The school does not have the adequate funds to provide proper facilities or care, and therefore is struggling to stay afloat. Yet, the children persist, as do the teachers and the others attempting to help in any way they can. They sleep on triple bunk beds (many of which are falling apart) crammed next to each other in rooms without windows. They use the bathroom in latrines with no roof. Even the floors (a fairly basic thing, yes?) have holes large enough for the children to fall through.

I suppose you'd become numb to it after some time. Or perhaps not. Either way, it is unacceptable. And yet, there is hope. Not from without, but from within. It is the children that smile and laugh, that run and chase, that hold your hand or clutch your leg, that become fascinated with sunglasses, or sit in the dirt and ask you to sit with them: these are the things that move me to believe that change has to come at some point. Because when people see this, they are moved to make a difference. Aren't they? Or does it not matter? As long as we can switch off the film at the end of the program and change the channel to something better, the help won't come. And sure, the children smile and laugh because they're children. That's what children do. But, as they grow up, without help, their futures become dimmer and dimmer. The school cannot support these children for long, and many of them may not make it through... or make it at all. BUT, I leave here in a month and a half and then I get to come back to the U.S. where I don't have to see it every day. So what do I care?