My Little Guy

I avoided the floods.

Kelly and I were catching a ride into Kampala in the morning. The clinic was closed in the morning for a staff meeting, so we would take the opportunity to spend the day together and get some errands done before our journeys back home. We arrived at Al's house (the man who was driving us) at the given hour of departure...apparently, right in time for the family's sit-down breakfast. Kelly and I conversed on the sofas nearby, and 45 minutes later we were on our way.

It was a busy holiday season, he said. Living an hour outside of the city, he would be stuck in traffic all the way home, get home at around 8pm, and get up again for work the next morning. He worked Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday as his day to rest. Moreover, on top of his job repairing cellphones, he also consulted for an architecture company. Most people had two jobs, he told us, otherwise it is really difficult to sustain one's self.

The morning was prime time for traffic (or any other hour of the day), yet our driver was skilled at taking back roads and alleyways, whenever he saw the line up in the distance. It is truly a learned skill, as there are few road signs in Kampala (as they would be exploited). He parked at a lot across from Watoto Central Church, where we drove around to find a spot of even gravel that would not take out the bottom of his car. Once parked on the smoothest of rocky ground, we disembarked, and Kelly and I headed out towards the markets.

At the “Craft Markets”, we weaved our way through rows of stand after stand, where once you have seen three or four, it is probable that you have seen them all. Occasionally, you find the rare gem, but by the time you realize it, you look back on the identical row of stalls and realize that it is lost to you. Therefore, not wanting to barter and excuse and thank the past 20 vendors, you press on.

We exited the craft markets and crossed back over to Watoto Central. On the opposite side of the building was a door that opened to “Living Hope” - a sector of Watoto that has taken in vulnerable women. The door opened on us, and women looked up from their sewing machines and beading circles, smiled and put their hands to their lips in welcome. Many of them are widowed and were taken captive from the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army) during the war. Laminendira, a Watoto base in the North, houses women who were raped by Kony himself. Many of the little one's in the Watoto village in Gulu (near to Laminendira), are Kony's biological children. The church has come together to share Christ love, giving them Hope (a Living Hope), and they work together to make peanut butter, body creams, jewellery and other crafts, wherein they sell to support their living.

The next leg of our journey took us 30 minutes across town, as we dodged vans, cars and bodabodas, on a path that I had traversed twice before. Crossing the road is a mere scheme in itself, as you look for the clearest spot available and make a dash for it. It is interesting how back home, pedestrians always lift their hands and hold them out like a stop signs towards cars, whenever crossing a walk. It is as if the driver sitting in your direction has no eyesight, so that unless you hold out the magic palm, he will continue ripping towards you and run you down.

“Sorry Sir, I didn't see the hand.”

A safety measure I suppose.

However, here you need to use your hands – use them. Emphasis on the need and use. Today, it was not the first time that I, walking on the side walk in front of a mall entrance, put my hand out to physical push my hand down on the hood of a car that came forward, nearly bumping out my knees.

“Yes, thank you sir. I am here. Sorry, I didn't wave the hand sooner.”

With no defined lanes, I have been grazed by the handles of bodabodas and smelled the paint color on matatos as they quietly breathe air into my hair follicles, going past.

Using our hands and our feet, and all of our senses (including my instincts, as we guessed a few turns), I saw the sign perched out front and knew we had made it. I knew exactly who I wanted to see today.

The little guy was perched out on the lawn, sitting up and smiling as we approached him.

“Hey buddy!” I laughed.

He copied my laugh exactly. I laughed three times. He laughed three times. Silly kid.

I introduced Kelly and 6kg Calvin, as it was their first time meeting. It did not take long before she adored him and his personality. When you laugh, he laughs, and when I think we make a lot of funny faces, Calvin has hundreds that he pulls out, an expression for every moment. He is progressing steadily and well, as he is gaining weight and able to perform many more of the developmental milestones for someone his age. He still stays in a room for malnourished babies and is taking medicine, but we have high hopes for Him.

Nearing the end of the afternoon, we knew we would have to be heading back towards Central to catch a ride back to Suubi. I didn't think I would see Calvin again, as my leaving date is quickly approaching, so this was goodbye. If anybody gave me a heart for the orphans and fatherless, I know it was Calvin and that he has long touched my life. I held up the little guy, as he grinned and gave him a little squeeze. I laughed and he laughed.

“Bye, babes”

I believe he will be just fine.

We arrived in Suubi after dark. I had dodged the showers...for today, but the blessings had been more than abundant. I would miss the little guy.

Bye Calvin :(