Hi everyone,

As the sun sinks lower in the sky and a pungent smell of varnish wafts through the open windows from the bedsteads being made in the back garden, here I am all sticky and dust covered, resting my weary feet after another long day’s work. Caitlin is already reclining in a deckchair in the garden with a book and I will too soon but first here’s a bit about our last week...

It’s been a very busy one, the busiest for me in fact and I think we would both agree that our feet have hardly touched the ground since last Sunday.

But before I start here’s some more photos from Bujagalli Falls the other weekend... the impressive rapids and three sweet children washing their clothes amongst other villagers who had come down to do the same and splash around and polish up their dust-caked bikes.

(and a funny sign I couldn't resist photographing)

So after a relaxing Saturday in which Caitlin and I had our weekly swim and succumbed to having a dress each made in town from some of the cheerful Ugandan fabric that lines either side of the main street, we found ourselves back at the school the next day to join in their Sunday service. It was taken by an Australian couple who seem to be touring half the world visiting schools and other small projects they have been sustaining for some years. They have been supporting some of Joy School’s children through their education and it was wonderful to see the way in which they were received there and how the children listened so intently to all their stories about bone-shaking bike rides and chickens and eagles and trees that needed propping up after storms…things they could really connect with, and made quite an entertainment with the school’s director Mary’s dramatic translation!

Later on that day we met Mike and Robina and baby Caren at a nice hotel overlooking the Nile for a thank you dinner for them looking after us so well in the SALVE home. They made us feel rather scruffy by turning up all dressed in a suit and beautiful dress and Caren all covered in pink ribbons but it was moving to see how much this meant to them. It was lovely to see them all again not for work and Robina had bought all the photos from their pre-formal wedding “introduction” the previous weekend in which Mike was formally introduced to Robina’s parents. We had lots of time to do this as it took about an hour and a half for the food to finally arrive (typically Ugandan but it’s never yet been this bad!), and the one waitress (probably the cook too, and I surmise also the one who went out to catch the fish and kill the chickens) gave Mike chilli peppers which was the one thing he hadn’t wanted and were passed on to Robina who dutifully ate them and hoped they wouldn’t give poor Caren a nasty shock next time she had a drink. And yet it was all worth it but I imagine we won’t be going back there in a hurry.

Monday was an early start with our first street clinic in a while. Steven, our interpreter, turned out to be a natural at this job and we’re very lucky to have him. Caitlin mentioned about his past last week and how this has made him the lovely, caring person that he is now. It is inspiring to see how he has made his terrible past something so positive and constructive in shaping his longing to help those experiencing what he did and to show them the love he never received. It’s also encouraging to see how he takes a lot of initiative when speaking with the children, asking them about themselves and their situation, explaining about what we could offer and relating back to us with very little prompting. Whilst I had imagined it would be some extra work working though someone else, it has taken a lot of weight off our shoulders and has also introduced us to some new slum areas in which to search.

On our first day Steven took us down to the railway on the edge of Jinja, where the poorest of the poor have their shacks and scavenge for leftover food from the rubbish tips and also from spilled goods alongside the railway line and unloading lorries.

These children had scraped up a small pile of maize to take home to their families. Sadly we discovered that all the children we met here were from Masese, the slum community we mentioned in earlier blogs, and whom all had families to return to at the end of the day. Whilst it is so difficult to tell such an obviously needy child that we cannot help, the main thing about the street clinic is remembering that we must save the precious few places in the SALVE home for those who are the most desperate; usually those with nowhere to go at night and who face the potential dangers of violence, rape and neglect on a daily basis.

We went back to the town and visited the most frequented rubbish dumps, finding a handful more children picking morsels and pieces of plastic and metal that they could sell for recycling. It turned out that these, too, including some older boys hanging around a back-alley (who turned out to be very friendly and helpful and directed us towards some potential places for finding younger children) were all from Masese.

We said goodbye to Steven and trudged home wondering if we would have better luck the next day and feeling somewhat disheartened, knowing that there were many who need our help, if only they knew of us or if we could find them, but where?

Tuesday started off equally frustrating, as we re-visited the dumping sites, even finding some new ones; the park where we knew the children slept and hoped there might still be some lurking in the long grass or under the hedgerows, and back to the railway. Again, the only children we could find were from Masese.

Having heard about the police’s involvement with street children, we decided to go to the police station and ask for advice on where to find them. After waiting a long time we were eventually shown to a caring yet over-worked lady officer who mentioned that the police partner with a couple of social organizations including CRO and that we should ask there. There was no more we could do there but it was encouraging to note her concern and encouragement of what we are doing.

After our allotted time for the street clinic Caitlin and I set about trying to find a birthday cake for Tiff (a SALVE child) whose 15^th birthday (the exact date no one knows) we were celebrating. After much searching we discovered these were in short supply and set about finding a fish and chips with lots of exciting looking bright red paste that called itself tomato ketchup.

In our hurry we glimpsed something dirt-coloured moving along the ground in one of the side alleys. Usually invisible to the naked eye, our more highly-tuned senses alerted us to the fact that we had glimpsed the rarely-dusted street kid. It turned out we were in luck.

He told us that his name was Junior and that he was 11 years old. We couldn’t communicate any more with him and substituted with an assortment of whistles and owl hoots and belly rolling (on his part) while we waited for Mike to arrive, who we managed to get on his mobile and who turned out to be in town not too far away. In the meantime a suspicious shopkeeper turned up and, discovering the situation, became very helpful and offered to translate for us. He relayed back to us that Junior’s parents had divorced and his mother had moved to Kampala where she had re-married and her new husband would not take Junior on. Junior had returned to Jinja to find a living on the streets. He sounded keen to be offered an education and a home, and from what we imagined his silent expression of wonder to mean, was overjoyed to have found a ticket to a new life.

But when Mike turned up we heard a new story. The two knew each other well and Mike greeted Junior with one of his big grins and a wrestle of a handshake. It turned out that the boy had been on the streets for some time and apparently had no intention of leaving it. He was heavily into drugs (visibly unnoticeable), a point which Mike confirmed with a tap on Junior’s back, which Mike later told us sounds hollow if affected by drugs. Apparently Junior has a grandmother in town but so far he has evaded taking Mike there for a required meeting before plans can be finalized, and has avoided the meetings Mike has tried to schedule in the past.

We felt a bit let down but at least he chose not to take our help rather than us being in the position of not being able to give it. It was a start though.

Next thing was a shakey bus journey to Tiff at Joy School, whilst trying to keep the fish and chips intact. They were still piping hot when we arrived and we got permission to take Tiff out of his class for a while. First everyone sang happy birthday to his embarrassment, and howled with laughter at the picture we had printed off for his card – something from one of the crazed evenings at the SALVE home -Tiff dressed as a well-endowed lady in a huge Afro wig!!

I realize I have already written far more than my portion for this week and Caitlin is busy cooking supper without my help so will keep the next half of the week brief – yet there’s still a lot more to say!

Community education research didn’t happen this week as it rained and then cheered up just after I rung Steven to confirm that we’d cancel it and he committed to something else – but I’m optimistic about what we can achieve with translation. It’ll open up so many more avenues, not having to be stuck with middle class, educated English-speakers. I’d loved to have spoken with this wonderful old lady the other day… many stories to tell I’m sure.

Last Friday it was really helpful to meet up with Joy School’s director, Mary, at last – after weeks and getting on for 2 months of her illness with malaria and having her phone turned off. But now I have had the opportunity to discuss the beads project and find out what it’s all about. As well as providing a wage for Joy school’s poor, orphaned and marginalized children (those without parents and relatives are housed there along with the SALVE boarders), the project was set up to encompass the community – particularly the mothers of the poor children, who, through their children and attending some of the workshops would learn a vocational skill. The other thing is to generate money to help pay for a new school building to replace the dilapidated construction of planks and holey corrugated iron that stands there now. The budget for this is way more than I could imagine the beads finances even making a dint in, but it’s a wonderful idea and I’d like to support it as much as possible…perhaps it will be possible to make a small difference if things come off with the UK market. Things are looking hopeful and if all goes according to plan we should be able to make plenty to cover material expenses and to give the children a substantial wage, enough to purchase their educational needs.

The other thing we discussed was a funding proposal (to cover project costs and expansion) and by yesterday I was able to gather all the required information to send off an initial letter of enquiry to a grants making organization based in the US that funds developing country projects just like this… I know it gets a lot of interest and I don’t hold high hopes but I wanted to try. The difficult thing is making sure the staff don’t get their hopes too high.

Caitlin is still enjoying all her work with Joy School and comes back glowing each time with all sorts of stories about what the SALVE kids have been up to. Her recently-started after-school drama club sounds a great success, providing an outlet for a great deal of talented acting!

Amongst her lesson planning and teaching-aids making, Caitlin is also busy working on this month’s interns’ newsletter for SALVE and is being willingly sucked into the school’s administration system in creating and producing a computerized copy of the school’s budget.

Finally, unsurprisingly we had not heard back from CRO after the letter of intentions about our desire to do some work with them, and decided to follow things up once again with Elizabeth the manager. Once again, we were asked to come back next week, and in the meantime await her call to schedule the meeting. We have every intention of coming next week, with or without her call but something we are realizing is that “next week” never comes.

We’ll hopefully be able to update you on this in next week’s blog. That’s all for now, suppers ready. Post this tomorrow, Hope all’s well!

Esther xxx