Well hello there, reality check… I suppose I should have been expecting you the first week of service, but man has it been intense. Even as I’m writing this blog, I am still processing a lot of what I have seen, heard, and experienced. I knew that this trip would be life-changing, and God is making sure not a moment is wasted.
My team has been blessed this week to be exposed to and experience Kampala life from one extreme to the other. We would spend one evening in the slum with the street kids, and then spend one evening at a coffee shop that felt like being back at home. It’s both interesting and appalling at how such extreme first and third worlds can live next door to each other.
There’s so much to share, and it is still difficult to distill it down to just words. Street kids are boys and girls who have come to the city through some situation and are essentially homeless. They scavenge the streets during the day for plastic bottles for recycling money and scraps of food from the trash to eat. They are parent-less, barely clothed, and usually barefoot. The street kids I met were as young as 2 years old to adults who live there to be “uncles” in the slums. Their “normal” is getting high on kerosene, getting beat up for what little they do have on them, and getting chased off and rounded up by the police.
The first afternoon we went to the slum, I was completely overwhelmed. The first boy who walked up to me was maybe 10 years old and his glazed-over eyes and shell of a person response was heartbreaking. JB, one of the Amari Uganda founders who was showing us around Kampala, told me that he was very high on something and not to worry about his staggering around in the street. Heartbreak. The look on his face told me that he wanted to talk to me and know my name, but he was too impaired to break through back to reality. JB also pointed out the other boys who were so high that they were passed out on the edge of the dirt street, with motorcycles and trucks driving inches from their bare feet. On our taxi ride back, I asked JB about the why…he said that the kids find it easier to be high and forget about their situation instead of working to get out of their situation. Although the children have several programs who will help them get out of the street, often the boys will return to the street and the addiction because it is easier. He explained that in order to be in the Amari program or any other program, the boys have to WANT to change. It hit me that I had dealt with this same situation in counseling addicts…but they were adults…these are children. Double heartbreak.
The next evening we went back to the slum for night outreach, to spend time with these attention-hungry kids. It was just as overwhelming as the first day, but this time there were more kids…at least 50. They each wanted a hug. They each wanted you to know their name. They each wanted to be special to someone and loved. Every single one of them called me “Auntie.” As my team and I sat together, the boys and girls showed off their dance moves and tricks…the joy on their faces made me forget for a moment that we were in the slum. For a moment, they were just kids getting to be kids. They were free from the poverty and addiction for a rapidly passing hour. I was so immersed in the moment of joy, that I nearly got whiplash as I was quickly snapped back to reality. I gently felt one of the 2 year olds climb up into my lap…pull my hands around his bare belly…and wrap his little legs around mine. As I felt him relax into my embrace, it took everything in me not to curl up with him and bawl like a baby. I looked up to the sky, fighting the tears…and questioned God… How? Why? There are so many kids…how can I help all of them? How can I save all of them?
And He simply said to me… “You can’t. I can.” He told me that He knows each of them just the way He knows me…He knows every hair on each head, and He knows each desire of each heart just the way He knows my heart. He said “Just love the one that is in your lap in this moment…just show the love I have shown you.” No more holding the tears back… I worshiped my God’s power and omnipotence as I watched those kids dance their hearts out…
