We were able to walk the grounds at the end of the day. We found children doing work in buildings on the first floor with masons laying bricks on the second. In the United States, regulatory agencies would be having spasms. But Gulu is Gulu. Children must be taught. Buildings must be completed. Somehow, it will all work out.

May 22, 2007

The Government, the teachers

We meet George, the headmaster at 9 a.m. at the Gulu district offices. A very modest building houses a great number of government activities. The hall has stacks of file boxes.

I am reminded by George that Uganda was a British colony for many years and the formalities die hard. We must pay our respects to the district education officer (DEO), the municipal education officer (MEO) and the district administrator. We understand that it will be healthy for the school if the government knows there is a specific nongovernmental group organized for their school. This may lead to added government funding. I suspect it may also relieve concerns about the school’s condition.

I am particularly impressed that both the DEO and MEO have children enrolled at UNIFAT. Obviously, both could send their children to any school in the area, but they chose UNIFAT.

After the morning's activities, we meet with the teachers as a group. Once again, Ugandan formality is front and center. Careful consideration is made of an agenda and each speaker carefully addresses the dignitaries (Abitimo, the headmaster and us -- so cool!) as if they are initiating a commencement address. I again ask for a Quaker silent moment for prayer. They are very obliging.

It is well worth the wait. These are wonderful people. Several speak at the meeting and we meet many separately. They are, to a person, humble, polite, unassuming and concerned to the greatest degree about what is best for their children. I would send my children to this school without electricity, without windows, without computers … without hesitation.

The teachers ask for simple help. Most importantly, it would be nice not to have 80 children in a class. Glass in the windows would be nice. A copy machine would be great for making homework. They would like to be able to exchange views with some teachers in the states (we can help there). They would like enough books so each child had his/her own.

Jill cries again and I have a hard time myself. So, so many good hearts. So many good children. We will not be able to turn back after this.

We sit under a tree at the rear of the school with Abitimo and a few teachers as the sun lowers. We overlook a continuing construction project. We are interrupted yet again by one of Abitimo’s ex-students. A young man stands patiently to one side until recognized. Abitimo is gracious and recalls him well. She has touched so many lives.

The work is on a small grouping of buildings behind the main school. UNIFAT has received a small grant from the government that will pay for a few more bricks on the U.S. Embassy building (the school was given $10,000 two years ago for building, but it only was enough for the first-floor rough construction). We talk to the masons who are still working (they have to use seven bags of cement per man per day to make wages). With enough money, we could have four more classrooms in this building in two months and finish the first floor.

We talk over dinner about the children in the streets. We have found that the motorcycle "gang" on the corner is actually a taxi stand. The young man at the internet café cannot do enough. They are all young entrepreneurs trying to make the best of a bad situation.

The teachers at the school are the products of a long history of strong families. For generations stretching long before the United States was born, they have taught their children respect and proper behavior. The children in the street are in danger. If they lose that sense of family, that sense of decency that has been engendered through the years, we may lose them and future generations. This is a critical time for Uganda. Those who are building the future by maintaining the past are the people we need to help. UNIFAT is part of that fabric. We need to make sure it thrives.

May 23, 2007

Amuru & the camps 

This morning we "sneak" to the school early. We must spend some time on the road today and I want to talk to construction people about the work and the cost to complete the four partially completed but still-being-used classrooms and the four new rooms under construction above them. The masonry contractor and Elvis, the engineer, are very pleasant young men in their mid-twenties. They are eager to do the work and understand that helping me may help to find the money that gives them more work.

We have come to realize that this work means more than just more room for teaching. We will buy windows from local fabricators, cement from local suppliers and we will hire local masons and carpenters to assemble the buildings. This will be a boon, albeit modest, to the local economy. But it will mean a few more local people with money in their pockets able to buy local goods themselves. This is the way life can return to normal in Gulu. When money goes directly into the local economies through nonprofit groups, it is an immediate stimulus. People can begin to focus on a future. They can get up in the morning planning for the day ahead. For now, as Denis tells us, the mentality remains that waking up in the morning is a great achievement unto itself.