We jumped out of the beat up and rusted four-door sedan to find ourselves facing the likes of 50+ Ugandan village people staring us down. They were all seated under a huge old tree that created enough shade to ward the heat off of them as they waited on our arrival. Some were seated in half broken wooden desks while others were on ground watching us fiercely. It was obvious. They knew we were coming to visit the village primary school.

Our friend Kenneth, who we were visiting in Uganda, was born and raised in this particular village. He decided to bring us to this school, amongst other places, to show us the “true” Uganda. His village is small and word travels fast so when Kenneth told his family and friends we (white people) would be accompanying him over the weekend, it became the talk of the town. People found out we would be swinging by to see a few of the local public schools so they made a huge effort to gather upon our arrival.

It was awkward to say the least as people’s eyes traced our every move and we were escorted to the empty wooden chairs before the crowd. It was then that I could tell that this experience wouldn’t be as I had imagined: a walk through the classrooms, a chat with the teachers, and maybe a short game of soccer with the students. No, this was a formal meeting. Luckily, we had Kenneth and his friend Charles who sat on both sides of us to translate what was happening. Several formal thank yous and introductions were made by the head of the Parent Teacher Association and other decision making boards. Then the teachers, parents and community members thanked us repeatedly for coming and then divulged the truth of the mater. The head speaker, agenda in hand, spilled all of the problems facing the school. There were not enough teacher housing, not enough classrooms for the children, no bore hole for clean water, no roofs on some of the classrooms, no money for lunches, and no exercise books for children to use during lectures. They explained a list of sad truths to us as we sat there trying to remember them all. Then, the speaker stopped speaking in his tribal tounge and grew quiet. Charles turned to me and said, ‘they’d like you guys to introduce yourselves and tell them how you can help them with all the problems they have.’

I’m pretty sure I sat there looking like a deer in the headlights for a brief moment before Kenneth got up and began introducing us in the local language. What would we be able to say or do to these people who have been waiting here all day to share with us their problems in hopes that we can fix them?? Ideas raced through my head. Who do we know? What connections do I have? How much money could I contribute? How honest should I be with them? Chris and I exchanged ideas briefly as Kenneth was wrapping up our introduction. Thankfully, Chris got up, thanked everyone and addressed the issues that they had grilled us on. He made it clear that we are two people who were not prepared to fix all of the schools problems, but that we can gladly share their story with others so that one day, their school may get the attention that it needs. We didn’t really have much else to say and I think Charles could see that so he quickly requested we get a tour of the facility from the Head Master. Whew! I couldn’t tell whether the people were completely disappointed or satisfied with our visit. We were the first white people to visit their school EVER and although we are recent grads, they see white people and assume the money and power follows.

Along the tour we learned about the hardships of being both a student and a teacher in rural Ugandan villages. The teachers don’t have places to sleep on school grounds so many of them walk up to 7km twice each day to teach. The students have no water to drink so they use their lunchtime to run to the nearest borehole (6km away round trip) to get water which usually makes them late for their afternoon class. None of them can afford to eat during lunchtime so their attention span is minimal for most of the afternoon. The classroom sizes range from 100 to 250 students per teacher, which allows for no one on one interaction. For the few rooms they have, students cram into a small area where the early arrivers sit in desks, while the majority of the class finds a place on the cold, hard ground. Three of the seven grades in the school don’t have classrooms at all so they are forced to teach class outside under the trees, pending it doesn’t rain (in which case school for them is out early). Additionally, 0% of children have their own textbooks. The teacher has the only one, which is transcribed onto the chalkboard for the children to take notes from and use those to read and study. Sadly though, most children walk to and from school every day for up to 3 hours each way. Therefore, when school gets out at 5pm, by the time they get home and eat dinner, there is no light for them to study. It is absolutely depressing to begin to understand what these children go through just to get a basic education, when meanwhile we have children in the US who throw fits of angst about going to their schools.

Several students and community members followed us around as Chris and I asked the Head Master questions about the school. Gaining eye contact with a few of the students made my heart melt. I desperately wanted to give them the books they needed, a light to study with, food for their tiny stomachs, a roof over their head and drinking water for the hot school days. I desperately wanted to hug them and tell them that everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t. Less than 40% of the children in this primary school would pass the National Exam to attend secondary school and less than 1% of those children would pass the exam to be admitted into University. The worst part was, we couldn’t do a thing about it while we were there. Adults and children both looked to us like we would be their answer but we weren’t. We were nothing more than a glimpse of hope that more white people would hopefully attend their school and give it the attention it deserved.

If you’re interested in helping out schools in the villages of the Kaberamaido district of Uganda, please contact our close friend Kenneth Ongalo-Obote at: kenobote71@yahoo.com.