Uganda, October 2015
How nice it was to be awakened in the morning by the crows of the rooster and the mooing of the cows in the garden. I even already heard children laughing. That is how you imagine the perfect start of the day.
I was couchsurfing at Meddy’s in Bugembe, a small village near Lake Victoria in Uganda. Meddy lived there with his family: his mother, his sister, and three orphan boys they had taken in. The three boys were between eight and fifteen years old, and I immediately grew fond of them. Their mom died very early of AIDS, and they never met their dad. This is very common – the orphanages are bursting at the seams.
That is why Meddy's mom took the three in. However, I found it very scary how she treated the boys. They had to work from early morning until late at night. They were instructed to do all the household chores that needed to be done: scrubbing floors, washing clothes – by hand, of course –, cooking, feeding the animals, clearing out the stable, and much more. I really felt sorry for them.
But when I asked the boys about it the other day, they just said that they were very grateful to Meddy's mom, because she made it possible for them to go to school.
I once bought them a ball to play. They were endlessly happy, but had to hide it immediately, because Meddy's mom would not have allowed them to own a ball.
Meddy himself ran a school for orphans, in which I could help later. He also planned a project to build a school in a very remote village. Sometimes, I went there with him and was amazed at the miserable circumstances under which they were currently teaching children: There was only one room and one teacher for 90 students. Neither tables nor chairs were available. All children had to sit on the floor in the dirt.
When I woke up that day, the orphan boys served me a delicious breakfast – Chapati and African tea. Then I went for a jogging session, which was very sweaty at these temperatures. Actually, I wanted to be back in an hour, but it was once again very different.
First, I ran up the so-called backyard mountain to find a way to Lake Victoria from there. I wanted to see the lake at close range. At the top, I sat in the dry grass and enjoyed an overwhelming view.
A few yards away, a small boy was sitting and chewing on a thing that looked like a branch. He waved to me. I approached him and asked what that was. He broke the wooden thing in half and joyfully stretched out a piece to me. Carefully, I bit into it. It tasted sweet and was totally delicious. For the first time in my life, I chewed sugar cane. I did everything exactly as the boy. I first chewed on it for a while and then spit it out again.
Strengthened by the sweet stuff, I continued my run. Everywhere I went, the children chased me in droves and called in a choir "Muzunguu, Muzunguu!” Some hugged me and jumped at me. How I loved these joyful sweet children here!
At some point I reached the lake, but because the shore was overgrown with reeds, it took quite a while before I found access to the water.
Finally, I discovered a beautiful spot where a few fishing boats were moored. It was a real paradise here – the endless, sparkling blue shimmering Lake Victoria, the untouched nature, and the homemade wooden boats. I lay completely exhausted in the meadow and let the sun shine in my face.
Suddenly, I heard a loud shout: "Madam, madam! Come with me! Madam!" I straightened up and saw an around eight-year-old girl standing on one of the wooden boats. It waved to me. I approached the little girl, and she made me understand that I should come to her on the boat. Of course, I did not need to be told twice. Another 17-year-old boy joined us and began to row.
Although this boat was not very appealing to me at the beginning, I once again acted on the principle: "No risk, no fun!” We drifted through the reeds out onto the beautiful lake. Everything was so paradisiacal and perfect right now.
I really felt like I was in seventh heaven. I was in the heart of Africa in the middle of Lake Victoria, in a small wooden boat, with two incredibly lovely African kids. Could I have ever imagined such a thing before?
The boy rowed and rowed. At first, I thought it would only be a short trip, but in the end, it took us almost three hours.
The girl kept shouting at me, saying she had never spoken to a Muzungu before. She sat very close to me and touched my hair and skin, again and again. The boy seemed to be really proud that he was allowed to row around with me.
We arrived at a small, idyllic bay. The two apparently always came here to swim. It was not long before they jumped into the water with their clothes on. How I would have liked to jump with them into the cool water. But since my tropical doctor had explicitly warned me before my journey to swim in Lake Victoria, I let it be. The risk of getting infected with schistosomiasis was supposed to be particularly high here.
On the way back, we met some fishermen. They were amazed to meet a Muzungu and gave us some fish, right away.
When we got back to the shore, the girl asked me to come home with her. She wanted to show me where she lives and, besides, we could fry the fish at her house, she said. I could not refuse her wish. In addition, fried fish sounded excellent. After all, I was really hungry now.
We passed many small, very poor-looking mud huts. At times, a strong, rotting smell hit my nose, and there was garbage everywhere. The area reminded me of slums, the slums of a city.
The girl's mum was extremely astonished when she saw me. The rest of the neighborhood also seemed quite curious, and, within a short time, a lot of people gathered around me – mostly children. Everyone wanted to touch me or just stare at me. The children wore dirty and torn clothes. But they were in a good mood and smiled at me with their sweetest smile. How is it possible that so poor people radiate so much joy of life?
There was no electricity and no running water in the houses here. In the tiny clay huts, often ten people lived in confined spaces. The girl's house consisted of only one small room of less than ten square meters. There, she slept with her mother and three siblings. The meals were cooked in front of the hut, where one could sink ankle-deep in the mud, because it had rained a lot at the night before.
Before we could start preparing the fish, we still had to buy oil. So we went to a small shop, and I bought a bottle. The mother of the girl then thanked again and again cordially for it – the liter had cost only the equivalent of 25 cents. She started to prepare the fish on a kind of grill. She served the fish with Posho – the typical cornmeal porridge. The fish tasted really delicious. Everyone watched me eating happily. They were overjoyed when they saw that it was a pleasure for me.
When it was time to say farewell, I bought a large pack of biscuits for the girl and the boy to thank them for the boat ride. They were happy about it. The girl even knelt down in front of me and kissed my hand. Tears were in my eyes. Once again, I experienced boundless hospitality, warmth, and joie de vivre and at the same time so much poverty.
The little one begged me to come back. And so did I. During my time with Meddy, I always came back there.
.jpeg)
Children from the neighbourhood