Ugandan Trip Journal, May 4, 2013
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Mabel arrived at the guest house, soft-spoken, asking for the group wishing to tour the school. "Oh, that's us," I replied, and introduced her to the two other families finishing breakfast.
Rashid set us up with this sweet Ugandan lady for a tour of Mabel's primary school. After a seemingly endless trip with her through Kampala, with turn after turn through bumpy, muddy roads, we arrived at the Perfect Stars Primary School.
So far, it has only two classes of children, aged four through six, but Mabel hopes to expand it through the years. She sees it as her ministry, and doesn't turn away families who cannot afford the fees. She walks in faith, trusting God's provision to meet the needs of the children in her care.
She called them back to see us. The children had been released on "holiday" to return home for a school break, but after she heard of our coming, she notified the children to return to school -- on a Saturday, even -- that we might see them.
Mabel led them in adorable songs to greet us: "J is for Jesus. O is for others. Y-yi-yi-yi-yi is for you and you and you..." And one about greeting an elephant on the road, where we parents each got to be an "elephant" with one of the children.
The two school rooms were sparse, with a corner of scant supplies. But we saw such evidence of the teachers' hard work, in hand made phonics posters and painted walls.
After songs, Mabel asked us to share about God. I shared with the children how I came to know Jesus at the same young age they are. And Mike shared about Zacchaeus (whom they call Zach-ay-ew). And then, of course, we shared the song about Zacchaeus after they shared their own.
Mabel passed out coloring pages, and we were instructed to guide the children at each of our tables to color properly. The Ugandans take coloring (and all education) very seriously. Each child was to sit quietly, to color each part of his picture within the lines, and to use different colors. They even expected this of W--. If any section of the picture was left white, children were given an admonition to complete it. Mabel half-teasingly called Scott a "naughty boy" for adding hair to his Humpty Dumpty picture.
The children were dismissed to find their ways home, and Mabel invited us into her home next to the school rooms. She and her husband treated us with sodas and talked with us a little while, before we went home.
Much to our amusement, during the car ride, as I was repeating W--'s phrases about cars here and there and everywhere, Rashid's wife, Joy, told me I was speaking Chinese instead of Luganda. Apparently, when people here speak gibberish, that's what they call it. W-- also caused me an embarrassing moment, when, as I repeated him, Joy turned around quickly and talked with W-- in Luganda. We questioned what was going on, and Joy explained that he'd been saying, "Breast". That's the problem with having a two-year-old as my language teacher!
Joy also gave me a sweet insight about W--. With his sometimes frowning, standoffish demeanor, she said, "You know, some children have to get old before their time. He's had to, to get through so much loss in his life." She also explained that she helped him look through the photo book we had sent for him. She said he always asked, "But when are they coming for me??"
The beautiful thing was that we took that same little boy, who can look so uncertain, to the orphanage that afternoon. And what we saw was a whole different child. The little ones rushed to greet him, crying his name in excitement. The older girls quickly took him to carry him around. And then they set him down on the mat outside to talk with him. Later, when we went inside to share "sweeties" with the kids, W-- met up with his cohorts from former days, laughing, teasing, putting on a show for them. He was the child we had only seen glimpses of before.
And as we left, our hearts heavy with the weight of children longing for homes, that same little happy boy that we saw at the orphanage let us catch more and more glimpses of that hidden self. He was not sad that we left -- as we had feared he might be. As we drove away, the orphanage visit seemed to give him a more complete picture of his new life. He did want to be with us, and he started to understand that he could bring that comfort he felt there with him. Since then, W--'s allowed his eyes to light up when something tickles his funny bone. He had even let himself break out in giggles. He's allowed himself to get goofy and respond to tickles. Such a blessing of God's grace.
Scott and I felt the tugs of the little hearts left behind at the orphanage. Scott had one little child attach himself to him, following him, cuddling with him, giving him messages with his eyes. I had three claim my lap simultaneously before we led the kids in London Bridge, Ring Around the Rosie, etc.
We were blessed to know how happy W-- had been at the orphanage. And we were blessed that part of that happiness came back with him, and started breaking open the floodgates for more.
Mabel arrived at the guest house, soft-spoken, asking for the group wishing to tour the school. "Oh, that's us," I replied, and introduced her to the two other families finishing breakfast.
Rashid set us up with this sweet Ugandan lady for a tour of Mabel's primary school. After a seemingly endless trip with her through Kampala, with turn after turn through bumpy, muddy roads, we arrived at the Perfect Stars Primary School.
So far, it has only two classes of children, aged four through six, but Mabel hopes to expand it through the years. She sees it as her ministry, and doesn't turn away families who cannot afford the fees. She walks in faith, trusting God's provision to meet the needs of the children in her care.
She called them back to see us. The children had been released on "holiday" to return home for a school break, but after she heard of our coming, she notified the children to return to school -- on a Saturday, even -- that we might see them.
Mabel led them in adorable songs to greet us: "J is for Jesus. O is for others. Y-yi-yi-yi-yi is for you and you and you..." And one about greeting an elephant on the road, where we parents each got to be an "elephant" with one of the children.
The two school rooms were sparse, with a corner of scant supplies. But we saw such evidence of the teachers' hard work, in hand made phonics posters and painted walls.
After songs, Mabel asked us to share about God. I shared with the children how I came to know Jesus at the same young age they are. And Mike shared about Zacchaeus (whom they call Zach-ay-ew). And then, of course, we shared the song about Zacchaeus after they shared their own.
Mabel passed out coloring pages, and we were instructed to guide the children at each of our tables to color properly. The Ugandans take coloring (and all education) very seriously. Each child was to sit quietly, to color each part of his picture within the lines, and to use different colors. They even expected this of W--. If any section of the picture was left white, children were given an admonition to complete it. Mabel half-teasingly called Scott a "naughty boy" for adding hair to his Humpty Dumpty picture.
The children were dismissed to find their ways home, and Mabel invited us into her home next to the school rooms. She and her husband treated us with sodas and talked with us a little while, before we went home.
Much to our amusement, during the car ride, as I was repeating W--'s phrases about cars here and there and everywhere, Rashid's wife, Joy, told me I was speaking Chinese instead of Luganda. Apparently, when people here speak gibberish, that's what they call it. W-- also caused me an embarrassing moment, when, as I repeated him, Joy turned around quickly and talked with W-- in Luganda. We questioned what was going on, and Joy explained that he'd been saying, "Breast". That's the problem with having a two-year-old as my language teacher!
Joy also gave me a sweet insight about W--. With his sometimes frowning, standoffish demeanor, she said, "You know, some children have to get old before their time. He's had to, to get through so much loss in his life." She also explained that she helped him look through the photo book we had sent for him. She said he always asked, "But when are they coming for me??"
The beautiful thing was that we took that same little boy, who can look so uncertain, to the orphanage that afternoon. And what we saw was a whole different child. The little ones rushed to greet him, crying his name in excitement. The older girls quickly took him to carry him around. And then they set him down on the mat outside to talk with him. Later, when we went inside to share "sweeties" with the kids, W-- met up with his cohorts from former days, laughing, teasing, putting on a show for them. He was the child we had only seen glimpses of before.
And as we left, our hearts heavy with the weight of children longing for homes, that same little happy boy that we saw at the orphanage let us catch more and more glimpses of that hidden self. He was not sad that we left -- as we had feared he might be. As we drove away, the orphanage visit seemed to give him a more complete picture of his new life. He did want to be with us, and he started to understand that he could bring that comfort he felt there with him. Since then, W--'s allowed his eyes to light up when something tickles his funny bone. He had even let himself break out in giggles. He's allowed himself to get goofy and respond to tickles. Such a blessing of God's grace.
Scott and I felt the tugs of the little hearts left behind at the orphanage. Scott had one little child attach himself to him, following him, cuddling with him, giving him messages with his eyes. I had three claim my lap simultaneously before we led the kids in London Bridge, Ring Around the Rosie, etc.
We were blessed to know how happy W-- had been at the orphanage. And we were blessed that part of that happiness came back with him, and started breaking open the floodgates for more.
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