Kampala's Taxi Madness

Here are some scenes from Kampala's taxi-park.

Karamojong street kids, innocence lost and a stolen childhood

Kristi and I recently returned from a short trip to Karamoja. Located in the North East corner, Karamoja has unjustly gotten the reputation as Uganda's problem child. The region has lagged behind in development efforts, and experiences regular violence as cattle raiders have gotten access to guns. In attempts to bring peace to the region the Government has enforced heavy handed disarmament plans often resulting in lootings, beatings and detentions. This has merely compounded problems and reinforced the feeling of distrust towards the government. A UNICEF representative recently reported that "Karamoja is the worst place to be a child, with highly elevated levels of early childhood mortality and morbidity. Health indicators are the worst in the country, decidedly worse than in LRA-affected [rebel Lord's Resistance Army] northern districts and the rest of the country." Maternal mortality rates are 50% higher than the other regions in Uganda. During the last 8 years HIV infection rates have doubled and primary school attendance is round 43%.

Walking through the streets of Kampala, you inevitably run into begging kids. Most of these have come from Karamoja in search of a better life but many are forced into begging either by their parents or because they have simply been abandoned. In 2007 when the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting took place, the Ugandan Government decided to respond by rounding up all the Karamojong and dumping them 40 km outside the city. (see this BBC article) Rather than address the problem, they merely tried to save face while the heads of state were visiting.

One evening while at a roadside cafe, Kristi and I observed as a little girl maybe 2 years old was forced to sit in the middle of the sidewalk with her hands stretched out above her head. As it reached 9 pm, the little girl's head started to bob up and down as she fell asleep. No sooner had her tiny hands sank into her lap and her eyes closed when her mother came running over to violently shake her awake. Dressed in her dirty rags, I saw how her sad eyes followed other little girls in pretty dresses as they passed by.
Here are some pictures of Kampala's forgotten faces... the ones that have had their childhoods stolen.

Construction has started!

I was able to visit Melisha's house on Friday and was so excited to see that construction had already begun. The builders were almost finished with the walls and were planning on putting the roof up over the weekend.

Update on widow's story

We were able to meet with the builders late last week and they did a thorough estimate for the costs involved in repairing Melisha's house. On Saturday we found a supplier and purchased the necessary materials, so that the builders can start construction today. I was able to take a few more pictures of the house which you can find below.

Melisha's roof
Kristi with Damali, Moses and two of the builders.
Side view of Melisha's house
Charles sitting on what was supposed to be the rest of the house

A Widow's Story

I met Melisha for the first time today as we visited her in the slums of Kampala. Upon arrival, I stared across a sea of mud at a small structure which lay in ruins. I squished-squashed through the mud, and soon found her curious face peeking around the rubble. Melisha welcomed us with a warm smile, and immediately began to tell us her life story. She tells about how her daughter had started building the house they are living in, but passed away from AIDS before it reached completion. Since her death, Melisha and her three orphaned grandchildren have been living in the half completed 6ft by 6ft room. A dirty sheet with holes acts as a door, and looking up I see the corrugated tin roof stretching only over half the room. I am able to stare straight into her house and see that last night’s rain has turned her dirt floor into a muddy mess. To make matters worse, there is no bed, so she and the kids have to roll their bedding out on top of the wet ground. Because Melisha's husband passed away, she tries to take odd jobs such as digging in people’s gardens and washing their laundry to generate income. However, this barely provides enough money for one meal a day and certainly not enough to pay the children's school fees. Melisha informs us that both she and her six year old grandson Charles have tested positive for HIV. The story could end here and probably in a lot of cases does, but as we drove off in our comfortable SUV, to our warm dry home I was reminded of the verses in James which state “what good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” Show me your faith without deeds and I will show you my faith by what I do.” So many times I feel completely paralyzed and incapable of helping the needs I see around, but here was an opportunity where I could act and make a difference. I could show the love of Christ in a real tangible way. Driving away I looked back through Melisha’s “front door” and saw her on her knees thanking God for our visit.

Kristi and I have decided to repair Melisha's house, if you would like more information, contact me at rucovdm@hotmail.com or Kristi at torik83@yahoo.com

Melisha and her six year old grand-son, Charles. They both have tested HIV positive.
Damali (our co-worker) and Melisha sitting in the "doorway" of the home

The road leading to Melisha's home

Telling Melisha about the new widow's support group SP hopes to start