Visible Children

The sun sets on the city of Kampala, yet the night is still young. The frequency of passing taxis, boda bodas, and pedestrians begins to decrease as everyone heads home for the evening. Yet the streets still find themselves occupied. The very sidewalk that businessmen and women, school children, and visitors tread upon throughout the day is the same sidewalk than approximately 10,000 boys call their bed tonight, call their home. It’s around 11 pm and there is still enough traffic to make drifting to sleep difficult. Small alcohol bottles that have been emptied long ago by the boys now find new purpose as cleaning agents and other chemicals are dumped inside in order to huff. By midnight traffic has settled, however, the arrival of free rolls and juice brings new excitement as the boys wrestle to acquire some sustenance. The food not only attracts the starving boys, but also draws in some boda boda drivers who find it cruelly humorous to seize juice from the adolescents and mockingly chug it in front of them. Once the food is quickly devoured, the boys begin to settle, lying down thin, often dirty, pieces of cardboard as mattresses. There are no lullabies to soothe them to sleep tonight, only the hollering and screaming being produced from the fight around the corner. Eyes close as a dozen or so policemen run past to put an end to the quarrel. Prayers are that tonight is not one of the nights that these same armed policemen decide to round up the boys, beat them, and throw them in jail.

The African heat is now far gone and the boys retreat their exposed feet, legs, arms, and heads into their worn out, dirty charcoal sacks. Rest is taken in shifts and after only a few hours several boys jump up to begin scavenging, leaving the cardboard and sacks for their friends returning from foraging through the streets. By 6 am the sun has begun its ascent into the sky and the remaining boys pack up their belongings in preparation for the new day. The same charcoal sacks used at blankets find another use as they are packed with dirty, plastic bottles and pieces of scrap metal found on the streets, in ditches, and down alleys. After hours of hunting, the collections are brought to a messy shack where a bag full of bottles is exchanged for 300-1000 Ugandan Shillings ($0.11-$0.35) depending on weight. With this small profit in hand, the boys race off to spend most of their earnings on breakfast before repeating the scavenging/collecting for the rest of the day.

This is how our team spent last night/this morning. Four Americans, three Northern Irish and a few Ugandans sleeping on Jinja Road alongside just a few dozen of the thousands of street children in Kampala. All throughout the night, even as we slept, people would just stop and stare at the crazy whites sleeping on the street. It made me wonder, how often do they stop and notice the small boys that sleep on that street every night? Does it ever cross their mind that it is just as crazy that they sleep there? The night was truly humbling as I saw God using us to show those kids - His kids - His love for them. It was just one night, but the experience will not soon be forgotten, as our eyes were opened even more to the daily (and nightly) lives of boys that we are here to serve. We did not overlook the boys on that street last night. We saw them. We acknowledged them. We loved on them. God does not overlook those boys. He sees them. He knows them. He loves them. 

But You have seen, for You observe trouble and grief, to repay it by Your hand. The helpless commits himself to You; You are the helper of the fatherless. –Psalm 10:14

God is good... All the time

The past two and a half weeks have really been eye-opening. They have reminded me about just how blessed/spoiled I really am and how every day I take these blessings for granted. A week ago, I met a ten year old boy named Sharif who was taken in by a Muzungu (white woman) named Anya. Maria just kept saying how good he looked and how healthy he was now and went on to explain that this cute, little boy was nothing but skin and bones, close to death, because of a drug addiction that he had. I still cannot even wrap my mind around this innocent, little boy living on the streets, even worse addicted to drugs because it was the only thing that made the suffering subside some. This is just one of the numerous, powerful testimonies that I’ve heard over the past couple weeks. What is encouraging about each of these testimonies is that in the end, each of the boys telling me their stories mentions how great God is for bringing them off the streets, for providing them with a home, an education, people who care for them and for God’s overall provision and love.

Those testimonies and those boys had already begun tugging my heart, challenging me to become more thankful for what I’ve been given, but today I heard another testimony that shook me even more. This morning I had the blessing of getting to meet Chad Allen, a thirteen year old who had been on the streets since he was six. Chad ran up to me as soon as we arrived at street reach this morning, grabbed my hand, and didn’t leave my side until we left. Amongst learning how to say lion (Mpologoma), goat (Mbuzi), and cow (Nte), I also had the opportunity to learn a little bit about Chad’s life. Chad’s mom died when he was young and as many Ugandan men do when their wives die, his father brought home another wife. Between the new wife not wanting Chad or his brother in the house, his father bringing home another woman which infuriated the 2^nd wife, and his father’s drunken rage, Chad and his brother were forced out onto the streets to fend for themselves. Chad told me that he had not seen his brother since 2007 and had no idea whether or not he was alright, or even alive. He then went on to tell me some of the many hardships of growing up on the streets, which sadly have become all too familiar for me to hear about recently. What came out of his mouth next, however, caught me off guard. Right after telling me about how much he has struggled in his short life he said, “God is good all the time, all the time God is good!” Wow! I mean it’s almost expected to hear a boy taken in from off the streets by a Christian organization to say that, but to hear those words come from a boy still on the streets with one outfit, worn out shoes, no bed, no parents, no clue where his brother is, and no guarantee of food and water when he needs them? This challenges me so much! I don’t want to just be thankful, I want to be content! If a boy with so little can love and praise God for what he has been given, why can I not be more than satisfied with all that I have? I want to live every moment realizing that God has already provided more than enough for me. It may not be the best, the newest, or the prettiest, but it is enough because He is enough.

Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. – Philippians 4:11-12

And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:19

Our Journey Begins

Wow it is only day 5 in Uganda and I already feel like so much has happened here! While I would love to share every moment with you all, I’ll simply list some highlights to keep this post under 3 pages. The past few days have been full of:

• Hearing kids scream “Muzungu!” everywhere we go. Muzungu meaning white person.
• Being heartbroken as 5 of the boys from the New Life Homes shared their stories of growing up on the streets in fear and loneliness with little, if any food and shelter.
• Rejoicing as the same boys praised God for bringing them off of the streets, providing for them, and loving them! 
• Spending hours with Sharrif and Bob (two NLH boys) laughing as they attempted to teach me words in Luganda.
• Watching our team become a family.
• Watching our translator, Maria, become part of our family.
• Spending hours with Maria laughing as she attempts to teach me Luganda.
• Hatching sea monkeys.
• Having nightly talks with Andrew.
• Laughing at Mallory and Katie’s ridiculousness.
• Serving alongside volunteers from Ireland, America, and Uganda who have a passion for helping street children.
• Going to a high school talent show with worship more genuine than many churches in America.
• Having family bible studies.
• Taking walks down our road.
• Waving at our neighbors and seeing their responses.
• Enjoying amazing meals made by our cook, Sarah.
• Seeing over 150 street boys’ faces light up when given a simple plate of rice.
• Playing soccer with street boys and watching them forget all their problems for a few moments.
• Seeing God.