Night in the Killer's Hut plus Grace and 'Old Man'

Grace, Damasko, Leah, and Florance

Trudy and neighborhood kids

The Killer’s Hut

Damasko and I went grocery shopping and then had a boda take us to the bush. After seeing the killer’s hut, which is at least twice as large as Damasko’s family’s, I was thinking that killer probably wished he hadn’t done his bad deed, as he had to leave a decent home, as far as huts go. The hut was one fairly large room, with a small back part, in which the chickens reside at night. It did have a couch and two chairs – with no cushions. The kids had written scripture on the dirt walls with chalk.

A great mish-mash of neighborhood kids arrived soon after we did. They wanted to touch the white skin, though some were afraid. They did warm up quickly, so we sang ‘Making Melodies’ and ‘Jesus Loves Me’ in the Luganda language. Their favorite was to have their picture taken, so they could see themselves on the camera - a hit every time! 

The toilet was totally in the open, just a small hole cut in the dirt. Really, a little coverage would have been nice! Uh-huh, you try that! :)

Grace cooked some matoke bananas over wood in the back for dinner. It was good.

Night time

Damasko pulled out the song book from their church and we sang several hymns together. I loved singing, ‘Great is thy Faithfulness’ as I sat with this beautiful family. The room was dimly lit by a small flame from a paraffin lamp. Yes, tears in my eyes and thankfulness in my heart for this moment in time. Before sleeping, Damasko offered up a long, beautiful prayer, as we bowed our heads.

Grace, Florance, and Leah, placed two small twin mattresses on the dirt floor. Somehow, they managed to put mosquito netting over the beds. Damasko grabbed his quilt and placed it on the hard sofa. Ouch! Grace directed me to one of the mattresses – and she and the girls all climbed on to the other. I felt so bad; I told them I would be happy for one of them to sleep with me. They told me that is how they sleep every night. My mattress had been borrowed. What can you say about overwhelming kindness?

I woke in the morning to Grace praying softly from her bed. After we were up, an old man wandered into the room. They simply call him ‘Old Man’. It seems that ‘Old Man’ has no family and no income. When Grace has food, she shares. Incredible - the family who has nothing, and goes hungry at times, shares food with this old man, though he is not a relative. Grace’s family is definitely ‘rich’ in ways that truly matter. May God blessings be upon them for their kindness.

'Old Man'

Update: 3/28

Thanks to one of our donors, today I had the joy of bringing Grace and ‘Old Man’ in on bodas. ‘Old Man’ borrowed a shirt, but didn’t have shoes. His slacks were filthy. I was able to purchase some clothes for each, plus a good pair of shoes and some sandals. I then took them to the hotel in which our teams stay for a buffet lunch. I wish I could really give you a picture. Grace is 38, thin, with a beautiful face. Her clothes were full of holes, and her shoes didn’t fit. Old Man shuffled barefoot up the stairs. Their eyes were huge. The wonderful staff gave them a huge amount of food, so they were able to take some home with them. We left the hotel and went shopping for a mattress. Also, Old Man wanted a padlock for his hut. What a privilege to put each on a boda, along with his/her thick, twin mattress wrapped and tied down to the boda, holding their many sacks – zooming off to the bush. A sight I will long remember!


As I think about the day, I know that Grace and Old Man would never in their lives have expected a day like today. I think also about our libraries and know that through literacy the next generation has the possibility of pulling themselves out of poverty. Our library work here is crucial, as together we truly change lives.


Thank you for reading. Please keep our libraries/librarians in your prayers, as well as the other wonderful people we have come to love in Uganda.

Trudy

Mzungus, Funerals and More

Schools:

Our oldest library is in Namirembe Primary School. After looking at the photo, I‘m sure you understand why it is time to do a major restock this year. Recently, I was at Mengo Secondary. Some students approached me to say hello. They said they were from the African Children’s Choir school. When I told them we were making a new library in Mengo, they were totally excited. They said they were bored without their LOL library! Cheers!


Trudy‘s Tidbits:

Did you know that in Uganda it is considered bad manners to walk down the street eating or drinking, as there are others that might not be able to afford food and water?

Why do you think when mzungus (white skin) attend church here, the majority drink water through the service? I watched it again Sunday morning by some visitors sitting on the front row of church. That has always bothered me. The rest of the congregation doesn’t have water. So why should the mzungus?

I have been to other ceremonies in Uganda, but recently attended my first funeral. It was miles and more miles through the forest back in the bush, with a huge attendance. The service was held outdoors under a tent. 


Following the service, burial was on the other side of the area where banana trees were being grown. As the throng of people formed many lines to trek the distance, walking between banana trees as the sun filtered through, I felt as if I was being transported into a movie or book … and the group would be breaking out of the trees singing beautiful old spirituals.

According to Jane and Noah, if you have money the burial happens as it did today: A hole is dug; the hole is framed with concrete; the casket is placed inside; wire mesh is put over the top; next, sheet metal on top of that; and finally - concrete is poured on the very top. If you don’t have money - simply bury.

A Ugandan casket at a shop.

Three little children who are forced to beg approached me on the street grabbing my hand. They could not have been dirtier. Poor kids. Two looked about 4 - with one even younger. I finally gave one of the older kids a ‘paper’ money - and the two younger ones some coins. The youngest (probably 3) started crying and letting me know he didn't want coins… He wanted bills! Sad!


I appreciate your prayers and kind words. It is humbling to serve as His hands and feet, as I deliver food to those who have none, plus help in other ways - tackling what seems to be huge mountains to some of our friends, which seem as simple bumps, easy to change.

Thank you for reading. God’s blessings.

Trudy

Next time: Follow up to “A Night in a Killer's Hut”

A Night in a Killer's Hut

Damasko and his hot looking bike.    

Taken from boda directly behind these.

Note: Libraries of Love Executive Director Trudy Marshall returned to Uganda on March 6. She will remain in Uganda for the next 5 months and send periodic updates.

How to begin? A week in Kampala was difficult. It is a huge, congested city. Not having a car, I have to constantly return to the hub of the city to take a different public transport van if going to different school. The matatus are crowded and dilapidated. My other choice is a boda motorcycle taxi. Neither are particularly safe. Fast forward. I woke up this morning wishing I was with my grandkids - and car! Though I always miss the kids - wishing I was home this badly is not the norm for me. I have traveled too many years. I decided I needed to stay home at the Okumus, have a quiet time with God. I prayed for peace - today. I admit, after prayer, I played the accordion for some time. Laugh on!

My ‘peace’ soon arrived in the form of Damasko (14 yrs.) on his hot looking bike, provided by one of our Dell volunteers. Those who read last year, will remember Damasko, his sister, Florance; cousin, Leah; and mother, Grace. The kids were making top grades in school, but had been sent home over and over because there was no money for fees. They lived in a mud house the size of two outhouses put together … with no furniture, far off in the bush. We enrolled the kids in the free lunch program provided by Bethany Methodist - and my grandchildren decided to sponsor the three kids’ school fees. Damasko is unique … like a little man. He worries about our spending money on him. If I show him a fancy pair of shoes, he will say … no, no, we can find something that doesn’t cost so much! That is Damasko!

Back to his arrival. Damasko came wheeling up in the yard and looked at me with that cute grin. He said his heart had been pounding ever since he heard I was here because he was so happy. I quizzed him about how the family had been doing. The small field they worked in to earn a tiny amount of money had been closed. His mom hadn’t been eating most days. Because Damasko has started high school, he needs to eat at school, and was using the last of the small amount his mother had saved. The kids have no breakfast, no food at break time … only the school lunch, which is a bowl of porshe (like cream of wheat), and no meal in the evening. The girls walk one hour to school and home again. It was hard not to cry in front of Damasko, as I have come to really love this family.

As we talked, I said, “Damasko, let’s plan on doing some shopping on Friday. We will then catch a boda home and I will spend the night with your family.” I only wish I could send his excitement through the computer. It was over the top! I ask him where I would sleep and he replied - in the dirt. I said, “Damasko, I bought your mother and the girls a mattress, and you a big quilt - and your putting me in the dirt?” He tried to stay serious as he said, “Yes, the dirt!” Then he broke out laughing.

Damasko then told me they are not in the same house. Their landlord let them move into a slightly larger mud house, which is near their house, at no cost. When I questioned why, he said it was a killer’s house. It seems the man who lived in the house recently killed a person from another tribe. When they came after him, supposedly he ran off to Kenya. Damasko said he and his family can stay in the house until the killer returns. Being a bit shocked, I questioned him. ”Damasko, you don’t think the killer would come back this Friday, do you?” “I don‘t think so,” he replied! Geez! What I always wanted to do - spend the night in a killer’s home, hoping he doesn’t return!

I took this beautiful kid to a small market that is close, and we bought a loaf of bread, rolls, butter, sugar, and flour, with a promise that we would do more shopping on Friday. As we were leaving the store, he said, “Trudy, I really needed a toothbrush, but I was afraid it would cost too much here, so I thought we should wait until Friday!”
We put his food in the basket on the front of the bike - and he was off to bush, with a huge smile!

Keep me in your prayers Friday. Pray for my claustrophobia in that small, dark house AND that there are no bangs on the door in the middle of the night!

Thank you again for reading. I had already written a different update I intended to send, but thought you might enjoy my upcoming adventure. I will send the other short news in a few days - and then a follow up about my night in the bush!Love and best wishes to each of you.

- Trudy