Realization of Expectations of Support

A home in the town/city

Huts in the villages

Students and parents walk a LONG way to get to school or work

(pictures compliments of Jeff Shimabuku - thanks, Jeff!)

A huge success and catalyst for critical thinking came with the home visits I did with Alice. I mentioned the idea to her earlier in the term when noting some of the best/most memorable experiences I had in Japan. For me, it was when I could meet with people in their homes and have an intimate shared experience. I explained that all Japanese teachers are required to have at least two home visits per school year with all of their students. This helps the teacher to understand and get to know the student and their family situation better and connect with them. I really respect this concept and can see the value in it, but understand how it might not be possible in Ugandan schools with the cultural interpretation of the visits and the sheer number of students. Still, Alice was open to the idea and chose six students at random from our S1 and S3 classes. The only requirement was that they had showed some responsibility to ensure that if we set up a time they would be there. We met with the six students once to explain the idea and then have them ask their parents, then again after that discussion to confirm which students were interested. All six accepted our pretense.

I was pumped for this opportunity and was extremely optimistic about the cross cultural exchange. A lot of walking and translating was done. A lot of food, snacks, and beverages were consumed and given back and forth. As I learned about the students’ families and their life situations, I began to grow less optimistic and feel less hopeful. Out of the six, five of the students came from families where one or both parents were deceased. Many families were dealing with land disputes, all had four or more children, all had financial problems delaying payment of school fees and/or food on a daily basis, much less new roofs, materials to repair clothes, or a lighting system one family was working on to ensure the children could read at night.

After the third home I visited, Alice asked me if I had noticed any expectations. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean. What expectations?’ ‘Expectations of support’… long pause. ‘Like, financial support?’ Yes, she began to explain. We talked for over an hour about the reality that when a white person has come to a small town or village with another Guluan, it has meant they are coming with relief. The result in some situations has been corruption through the Guluan middle ‘man’ taking the money/aid, strife within communities as one student/child receives more attention than another, and/or short term relief without a backup plan when the money/aid stops. My naive visions of a purely cultural exchange between two human beings to share stories, games, juice, and emotions was now clouded over by the vision of me as a walking Ugandan shilling (or a million).

With the next three visits, we made it clear at the beginning and end of the visit what our intent was, but hearing story after story of struggles weighted heavily on me. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming silently down my cheek as one students’ nearly deaf mother shared about how her murdered husband had left their family with a new wife and a few years ago and all of his inheritance and property now went to her. They were left stripped of land, possessions, monetary support, and dignity. We would not be playing cards at this home, “cards are games for children. We have no time for cards,” the mother stated bluntly.

My critical thinking will continue as I dialogue with peers, mentors, and team teachers on this program about what our role truly is. How, if at all, can I TRULY help? What, if anything, will TRULY make a difference in these children’s lives?

I can't get enough of the babies

Cooking - a task that consumes the vast majority of the day

I learned a TON about crops and agriculture in the region, to the point that I could name any crop by the leaves growing above ground. Mr. Ritz would be proud. This is a millet, a local favorite.

I LOVE beans!