rakai.

4.17.08

Three hours outside of Kampala, and across the Equator, is a small village in Southern Uganda called Rakai. It is said that Rakai is the location of the first reported case of AIDS, and the disease continues to devastate the village. Our ICY team of 15 stayed in the town part of the area for three nights and four days, to contribute our time and efforts to a local family. From where we stayed at the Send-a-Cow center, an organization which helps provide the village families with livestock to sustain their finances, we had to drive about 45 minutes deep into jungle, excluded from most of society.
There, a small house made of mud and reed was suffering from the wear of time and weather, forcing the orphaned teenage boys to sleep in the goat coral at night when it rained. We arrived the first day in the late afternoon to scope out the area and lay out our plans for a brand new house, which we would help build the following few days. Many of the village children, curious from our taxi van driving through, had followed us to the site. As I attempted to go visit with some and maybe play a game with them, several darted away, intimidated by my white skin. I tried to walk a little further toward them, but they ran further. It took a few brave children to slap or shake my hand before the rest were able to approach me. As many of the ICY team members consulted with the two boys about the plans for the new house, I attempted to teach the children some clapping rhythm games. The children were so sweet and shy, but I was hopeful that they may warm up to me throughout my time there.
Our first full day on the worksite was partially put on hold, as the best of the rainy season spoiled our ability to dig in the mud. I helped two village women prepare lunch with Grace, Amanda, Sarah, and Felicity. My biggest contribution, however, was breaking open bean sprouts. I have a lot to learn about African food preparation, still!
I continued to try and play with the village children, and some gained enough courage to sit beside me on the pile of tree trunks, which would eventually serve as the solid framing structure of the house.
We were able to fully dig all the holes in the ground to raise the tree trunks in the ground and nail the base of the roof together.
The following day, rain continued to threaten our progress, but only lasted through late morning. With most of the tree trunks in place, the Ugandan Volunteers of ICY began to dig a trench and mix the mud, stomping their bare feet around to create the necessary consistency. So, I decided that there was no better way to get an authentic African construction experience than removing my shoes and socks as well and leaping into the huge channel of mud myself. All the Ugandans cheered to see a “mzungu” girl getting right into the middle of all the work, and I had an absolute blast plunging my feet up and down into the rocky soil and stream water. It is a very physically demanding process, with sharp stones jabbing and slices open ankles and feet, but I was determined to help get the progress as far along as possible. The two young men had lost both parents to AIDS and had so much hope for the future. I was so inspired by their hard work and desire to succeed in their goals, that the burden of intense heat, lack of water, and sore muscles was irrelevant.
In the afternoon, with mud caked and dried up to my mid-calves and speckled over my entire body, I helped Ivan and Benon, two ICY volunteers, measure and cut more tree branches and trucks. I have been on so many construction-focused service trips throughout my college career, but my experience building a mud house in a Ugandan village was so different. The tools and methods are simplified by the limited supplies, and a lot more patience is involved. While we were not able to finish the house, we had finished all the stages of building that required a large team of people. Some of the ICY volunteer guys told me that the two boys working alone could finish the house within about four more days. I felt a bit sad to leave the site for the last time, as the experience of the construction work, taking pictures of the children and playing games with them had been so much fun. It am so grateful for the opportunity to have made a positive impact on the small family, and hope their new home will bring them comfort and happiness.
The village had really embraced us, especially evident on our last day when we went around to different homes to visit with the people. I had been teamed up with Sarah and Benon, and the first home we went to was a small one-room structure, where an elderly women was tucked under a colorful wrap, and crying out to us in Luganda. She had lost one of her daughters to AIDS a few days prior, which, unfortunately, was not the first time she had to bury one of her children. She had over a dozen grandchildren orphaned from their parents dying of AIDS. We attempted to bring her comfort in speaking with her, and she asked for us to pray for her strength. Her small, frail hand help on to mine for some time, and she would look at me with desperate eyes while crying out load. While I could not verbally communicate to her, I gently rubbed her hand and tried to express my sympathy to her with my eyes. It was heartbreaking to hear her weeping, and see the tears streaming down her face. I had never seen the devastation and pain associated with AIDS so up close before this experience.
The other homes we visited were not as emotionally difficult to take in, and I was astonished at how welcoming the villagers were to three strangers. I wondered if the other teams of people were able to visit with other homes with the same hospitality. One woman we visited was so excited to have a “mzungu” in her home and asked me to take her back to America with me. While I am only able to handle the most basic of conversations using Luganda, she seemed delighted to hear me speak in her language, giggling as I thanked her in Luganda when she handed me tea and boiled yams.
Our time in Rakai revealed so much of Africa’s culture and history, as well as its suffering. Being able to contribute to the construction of the mud house and visit with local village people was an authentic experience, which has added to the understanding of Uganda I continue to build upon each day.