I realize I haven't described where we are staying, so I will do that now. We are in the Agape Guest House, adjacent to their home for preschool age children. To get here, we turn off of a main road (although dirt) onto a very narrow road of red dirt. Down this side street are several vendors-as there area all over the city- in little booths which are more like shacks. They sell everything from fresh fruit (amazing!) and eggs to hand made dresses and make up. Yet this is all from within these tiny ramshackle huts of tin or wooden pallets. On some of the main roads we have seen booths not much bigger selling handmade furniture, coffins and even a dry cleaner.
On the dirt road there are many kids coming and going, and not necessarily to school. But we are on a little side road off of the side road. Our street has a security gate and our round the clock security guard, Simon. There are maybe 10 houses in this community of guest houses. Next to us is a couple from Houston, Texas who are attempting to adopt four of the Agape kids. This is a process that has taken over a year, and Cindy has lived in the guest house since the first of April. Mark has come and gone, but been here permanently for several weeks.
Down the road are two Islamic women, refugees from Somalia. The owner of the complex lives in one of the houses, and the others seem to be Ugandan families renting the houses as homes. And the houses are nice in spite of the neighborhood. We have running water, electric and -most of the time- internet. There is a small kitchen and comfortable bed rooms for us and for Rose.
The city of Kampala is fascinating. It is the nation's capital, but there are no busses or trains. The closest thing are 15 passenger vans used as taxis. You can also get rides from motorcycles, of which the city is full. The traffic is ridiculous and chaotic, and there are probably as many motorcycles as cars. I saw a guy transporting a couch on his motorcycle the other day. Our neighbor, Mark, said that was nothing, he saw a guy transporting a live cow on his motorcycle.
But as intriguing as the city is, the people are my favorite part of being here. They are so welcoming and polite. The standard greeting when you arrive at someone's house is, "You are welcome in my home." And the thing is, I really think they mean it.
As for our work here, it is becoming a bit more multi faceted. Rose has been asked to write brief biographies of each of the children, and will be interviewing the social worker soon to do that. Sue and I have been asked to do some painting, and there is more discussion of doing our show. We have one set up for Saturday for sure, but suspect there could be some even before that. We will be selling Agape Coffee- harvested right there in Uganda -as a fund raiser for the homes; be watching Sues facebook for details to follow.
And finally I have taken it upon myself to befriend Paul, a boy in the preschool home, but he is about 10 years old. He was dying of starvation on the streets of Kampala when Joseph rescued him. He is nonverbal with a lot of autistic like tendencies. I know in the states there has been a lot of success with nonverbal kids by teaching them sign language instead of speech. I introduced three signs today and have no idea if it will help. But I'm enjoying the effort, and he seems to also.