It’s Entebbe, Uganda’s port of entry and departure, and we’re almost on a plane over the ocean and back to our home, the one where you can’t wear a t-shirt outside during this time of year. And on the table in front of me is an African news magazine with a picture of Nelson Mandela, [...]
(Cont'd from yesterday) To finish the story of Gloria, the little Ugandan girl who is the thief –turned-family-friend, there’s not much more to say except that in the past days we have been robbed of items of far greater import than swimsuits and underwear. Twice. At Christmas in particular, thieves need to get on with [...]
KAMPALA, UGANDA ✦ Once there was a little Ugandan girl who loved school. The girl, who had been an orphan when she was younger, loved learning new things and making new friends and pretty well everything about it, especially the stories. Maybe she loved school all the more because of her years as an orphan, which started in a hospital in Mbarara, in western Uganda, where she was left abandoned when she was barely larger than a cat. There she was given all she ever owned, her name, Hannah.
So 12.12.12. came and went and the world didn’t end. No, the planet didn’t blow up, give up, or pack up its things and say, That’s All Folks! In Africa, our evening included our annual community carol sing. Liz sang Silent Night solo, Jon handed out candles when he wasn’t playing with the light, and [...]
We know little about them, these grandparents—if they came to babysit on Friday nights or if they maybe played checkers with the curly-haired, laughing boy while he grew in wisdom and stature.
(Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, December 24, 2011) KAMPALA, UGANDA — It’s late at night at the Ugandan-Kenyan border and a little Ugandan boy is about to disappear forever. Moses Kaloulou, all of seven years old, is crying hysterically. Not that he knows what’s going to happen, that he’ll likely soon die at the hands, and knife blade, of a witch doctor. All he knows is that it’s late — about midnight now — and very dark, and that some hours ago he was taken by strange men.
OK, so what if Chicken Little was right? Chicken Little is that bird who got hit on the head by a falling acorn and then ran around screaming "The sky is falling!" He got all his forest friends in an alarmist tizzy and, on their way to tell the king, they were summarily fooled and eaten by that Foxy Loxy.
One of the unexpected things I've caught since coming to Africa for the long haul is a certain disturbing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's grown there quietly, feeding, I suspect, on the various foreign sights and sounds around here, especially those of the children.