5:45pm
Another thunderstorm is coming. We’ve got hot water to brew gourmet teas that we all brought from home. We are going to a neighbour’s for dinner in an hour or so, at least that was the plan. Maybe the storm will put us off?
Today Steph and I took a boda ride home because we were both exhausted and had symptoms of being sick. On the ride home, 70% of the people we saw were children. Many of them carried heavy things on their heads, and some took care of even younger siblings. So much of the population are children. I passionately believe that education could change the lives of all these families. All these kids attend schools where classroom sizes are well over 60 or 70. If only they had the opportunity to learn in an environment where the teacher- to- pupil ratio wasn’t so high. In our casual conversation, we began to trace the roots of poverty in the village. Who manages the education system? The Ugandan government. There isn’t a shortage of teachers, nor is there a shortage in money. The issue lies in where the government assigns the money. Instead of opening up more schools, hiring more teachers and professionals, governments have been occupied with obtaining and maintaining power and status. We thought about Canada, in the environments we grew up in. The differences lie in how democracy is managed.. here, there has been more corruption, therefore members ‘elected’ haven’t represented the people’s priorities nor addressed their needs. The value of education is the same here, if not even more highly regarded than in the Canadian context. Where the system falls short here is in the effective and honest implementation of programs to fulfill the people’s wishes. I look forward to visiting the primary and secondary schools next week, to further contextualize my understanding…
There is a baby who we see often at the library, in the care of an older girl who is probably no more than twelve years old herself. He wears no clothes, except a small string of beads around his hip area, for reasons unknown to us… Maybe his siblings think it’s amusing? He sits on the dusty floor, grassy field, dirty rocks, etc., and every time we see him we are concerned for his well- being. He needs pants. He cannot run around buck naked like that; he looks no older than a year and half! Of course with these thoughts, I challenged myself, and the girls who I work with, to take a step back and evaluate our critical judgement of this baby and his living conditions. It’s really difficult not to form thoughts of, ‘he should have this, at the very least’, especially because he is only a baby. Where is his mother? Why do they not have any clothes for him? Does he refuse to wear clothes, or can they not afford it? Why do his siblings not realize that it isn’t sanitary? Who am I to determine what is sanitary or not? I don’t want to judge. I asked our hostess, do these children get sick, she said no they are usually healthy. Still.