[Note: this is a long, multi-page post]
On Weds, a little boy stood listening intently outside Asianzu House Internet Café trying to figure out where the sounds of the sports game were coming from. He couldn’t see the TV playing a recent football match, but he could hear the cheers and see the faces of others watching it. He peered inside. Of course, like everyone who comes by our discount internet café, we ushered him. He took off his shoes at the entrance and quietly found a spot on the floor next to two strangers who were sitting in chairs. He pulled a mandazi (Ugandan doughnut) out of his pocket, cut into three, and shared it with those around him, making sure he got the smallest piece. One of the men shared his rice with the boy and the boy tried to pay him with the few coins he had left in his grubby, thread bare pockets.
The boy’s name is Godfrey. He had just arrived in Arua Town from a small village 30km away where he had been abandoned some time back. The famine in northern Uganda had hit his village hard. With no food his family had to make tough choices. His mother was brought (possibly bought) into a new family but not allowed to keep her old children, whom she left with her former husband, the children’s father, hoping with one less mouth to feed they would fair better. Being extremely poor, the father was still unable to care for his kids and ended up abandoning them in the village hoping that others would feed and take care of them (which is usually what happens). But right now many people are starving, and five out of the six abandoned children died because of lack of food. At tens years old, Godfrey thought his best chance was to go to the biggest town near by and try to find some work, any work, so he could raise money for food. He found himself in town collecting plastic bottles and raising a miniscule bit of money, which he then used to eat crumbs. On the day we met him, he had made 200 shillings (10 cents) and spent 50 shillings on a tiny 2-inch doughnut, which he then shared with perfect strangers because they had allowed him into what seemed to him to be their home (which is also why he took off his shoes despite the fact everyone was wearing theirs). His clothes were torn, his growth obviously stunted (we all thought he was about seven years old), and his belly was distended.
Here was a child who had lost everything, had been left to fend for himself on the street, was starving, and yet shared his tiny, precious morsal of food with others who were obviously well-fed. He never asked for anything in return. He was different than other kids left of the street. Most have become hard and selfish, particularly since most street youth are picked up fast by gangs or thieves and trained to steal or commit crimes for a “boss”. In return they are given some minimal amount of food or money, and in their group they find some sort of safety from predators. Godfrey, being new on the scene, hadn’t been scooped up yet.
We could all see Godfrey had something different in him. Some light, or spark.
As night came and the café was closing we couldn’t just leave him. We knew he would certainly be picked up by the gangs, and not to mention, we rationalized, a huge storm was coming. We decided to let him sleep in one of our spare rooms in our compound just on the edge of the town, just for one night.
The next morning, well before most were up, he hurried with David, one of our staff, back to the café. He just assumed he was going back on the street and had had one lucky night. But there really is something different about Godfrey and everyone who meets him can see it. Instead of kicking him out, David and the other staff found odd jobs for him to do and gave him food in return. Incredulously, Godfrey still tried to pay for things, handing over his remaining money to the server shyly because he knew the food he had been given was worth more than he had. He still never tried to take anything for free.
During the day, Godfrey and David became friends. Godfrey gave David a nickname of Da Da (the closest local word to David). Godfrey was glued to David’s side. At the end of the night, David couldn’t send Godfrey back out on the street, so once again he brought him home. This time, Godfrey knew he was getting special treatment and busied himself around the compound trying to clean, put things away, or whatever he thought he could do. He even washed himself carefully to make sure he didn’t dirty the place. He was polite, quite, but always ready to help.
Godfrey’s Second Night
David and I were surprised that Godfrey was so alert and awake at midnight. He just wanted to play. I admit, being a kid at heart myself, I did probably make him a bit hyper as I played a two-person, musicless version of musical chairs, along with other rambunctious games (wouldn’t anyone?). But even when we were all obviously tired, he still seemed to constantly avoid the room we had for him. We were confused. Each time we would open the door and prepare the room, he would stand at the door, wait until we left the room and close the door again from the outside. The language barrier was all too obvious. We were saying goodnight but he just kept following us.
Finally, at 1am, David and I were exasperated and needed sleep so we more forcefully said good night and went to our respective rooms, leaving him outside (he knew his room). I looked over my shoulder and Godfrey way still standing by his door, refusing to go in. At this point I figured he was just being stubborn.
Exhausted, I crawled into my bed and closed my eyes.
Before I feel asleep I heard noises outside my room. Coughing and shuffling. I knew it was Godfrey trying to get my attention. I quietly asked if he was OK, but his answer was long and complicated and I couldn’t catch it (my Lugbara is still not that good). He asked me if he could come in and I said yes, thinking I would at least let him sleep on the floor. I really needed sleep by this point.
When he got in the room, he asked if he could borrow my flashlight (an item that totally amazed him) and he looked around the room. He checked in all the cupboards, in the corners, behind jackets and under the bed. Once he was satisfied, he handed back the flashlight. I handed him a sheet and said goodnight. He waited standing next to my bed. Staring. Then it dawned on me. Children in Uganda never sleep alone. Safety in numbers. Even most adults don’t (the whole family sleeps together on a papyrus mat on the floor). He was terrified of sleeping alone, and here we were trying to get him to sleep in a strange room, in a strange compound, with strange people, and asking him to sleep alone. On top of that, there are old local (Ugandan) horror stories of strange white people (albinos) steeling children, locking them away and eating them as part of some dark magic (kind of like our Handsel and Grettal). I can only imagine his fear.
All I said was OK, and before I could blink my eyes he had slid under the mosquito net and climbed onto my smaller-than-a-single sized bed. He wrapped himself in his own blanket like a cocoon and nestled up next to me. Within seconds he was fast asleep.
I think he only work up once, near morning when the poor little guy fell out of bed having never slept in a bed off the floor before. The look of shock on his face was both hilarious and endearing.
As day broke, he was ready to go outside and play. Before the sun rose he was already playing with my cell phone by looking at the pictures and having fun pushing the buttons. I was still groggy from a relatively sleepless night. As soon as we got outside it was as though someone had pushed the “high-speed” button. He began climbing up poles, running among the paths, kicking a football (soccer ball) around, and just plain being a kid. Despite my tiredness, it was endearing to watch.
It was sometime about then when it hit me, why did he sleep the first night in the spare room and not the second?
I spoke to the night guard. He told me that on the first night, he told Godfrey to “stay in that room and not come out until morning or the dogs will get you.” Yikes! We don’t have dogs, but the neighbours do and I can see why he would have been too scared to see if the dogs were at our house or the neighbours (they often bark in the night). Poor guy. Obviously on the second night he realized there were no dogs.
I am sure there will be many more stories to tell about Godfrey, and unfortunately with this famine, there will probably be many more children like Godfrey coming into town.
Godfrey is one of the lucky ones though. Ayiko, the founder of Peace For All International, and his wife have agreed to take in Godfrey, and all of us volunteer staff have agreed to try and help with his costs by donating each month. Ayiko, born in this same area of Uganda, was once a street kid too in Sudan (having to escape there after Idi Amin was overthrown), so he couldn’t let Godfrey go. Ayiko was rescued by a very special family who helped him get to a refugee camp and go through school when he was about the same age. Later he was rescued by the UN and sent to Canada as a refugee, where he then became a Canadian citizen. Now he is back in Uganda trying to help his people through Peace For All International (www.peaceforallinternational.org).
… and Godfrey is one of his people.
PS: I purposefully didn’t include a photo of Godfrey in order to respect his privacy.
