In 2009, after 2 years of volunteering with Children’s Heritage Foundation we made the choice to sponsor 2 kids. We weren’t really looking for any child specifically, but we just wanted to be able to have a connection with them. A long term connection.
Tragically, that long term connection only lasted with one of them. In 2012, our sponsor son Kitenda fell from the back of a motorcycle taxi and was hit by another passing vehicle. The accident was fatal. He was 17. I was told this news 72hrs after returning from a recent trip where I spent countless hours playing Uno with him in our rented apartment and drinking sodas and laughing at his jokes. It left me feeling raw. The reality of life in poverty slapping me in the face. The realization that no matter how much money we put into this program and no matter how many kids we got sponsored, salvation from their circumstances wasn’t possible. They were still going to die, sponsored or not.
It was an internal war for me for many months and something that has shaped how I view our ‘work’ overseas. There is no promise of a positive outcome. There never is. But, that doesn’t stop us from giving what we have and creating programs that inspire internal transformation, opening up opportunities through education and simply, tangibly loving people.
And the heartbreak of that experience and the resonating feelings of loss that still fill me, makes this most recent trip all the more poignant. Because our other connection is a long term one.
On October 26th, I had the privilege of attending Nkumba University’s 2019 graduation. My sponsor daughter, Eron, also had the privilege of attending; sitting in the student section in a cap and gown. Now, university graduations in any country are not the most interesting or time-well-spent type of occasions. Long speeches, long lists of names, lots of waiting for that one important name. This ceremony was no different in that regard. However, in Uganda, long speeches also means lots of waiting for the people giving the speeches to arrive. Long lists of names also means giving a verbal description and special recognition to every doctoral and masters student and allowing them as much time as they would like to amble down the red carpet, receive their distinction, take photos with friends and family and amble back before moving onto the next name. Lots of waiting for that one important name also means sitting in plastic lawn chairs with knees crammed all the way up to the chair in front of you in a sea of plastic lawn chairs and people huddled under white canopy tents. Lots of waiting means 7hrs sitting in those chairs because once you are in, you literally can’t get out. Lots of waiting means sitting through a 3 hour torrential downpour during which the previously grassy field in which your lawn chair was placed turned into a muddy lake and the already crowded tent somehow made room for hundreds of more people while the administration carried on not missing a beat. It is fanatical and draining and the best and biggest dose of traditional Ugandan culture. And I couldn’t have been happier to be there.
What ensued after that was, another expected dose of Ugandan culture. A 2 hour turned 5 1/2 hour drive through the noisy and intoxicating traffic of Kampala, directly into another tent filled with flashing lights, swaths of fabric draped in banners around the perimeter and a PA system turned full blast. Yips and hollers and lots of hugging and dancing and food and sodas and more and more speeches. Greeting a graduate in her home town is seriously something. Something so worth celebrating.
And the beauty of the whole thing is that this girl isn’t done. She is so driven. She’s already planning for her master’s degree and starting her own accounting business. As for marriage? ‘Not now. It’s not that important to me. I have my sights set on something else,’ she says. We couldn’t be more proud of you, girl. You are totally my inspiration.
