A heavy settlement for resettlement

I guess I was a quite average 14 year-old girl. My moods could change in the blink of an eye from hyperactively chirpy to inexplicable anger and sadness. One moment I was laughing so hard I almost fell to the ground, the next I could be convinced that everything was just crap. When being in the down-swing on the mood curve I could imagine a lot of silly things. If my parents happened to push the wrong buttons at the wrong time, I could for a brief moment think that they didn’t like me or care about me all that much. If I would have disappeared for a while, they would probably not even notice or care. Is this recognizable to anyone?
Most often I would just feel like this for a short time and then snap out of it. I always came back to the certainty that my parents love me and would be devastated if anything should happen to me, or if I got lost. When resuming the normal mind-set I’d feel silly for even thinking that they wouldn’t care. After all, they are my parents. Parents love their children no matter what, right?

Wrong!

If it is right, though, some parents have great difficulties accessing and expressing such an unconditional love. I never knew just who these parents were, what they looked like or how they behaved. I’ve never met a parent who simply does not care or want their own child. Not until last week.

100 %We’re about to take off, almost ready to go
50/50 nervous and excited
That’s why I’m cleaning up so











Walking to our transport I’m looking over at you
You’re now 20 % excited
Fractions of fear are pressing through











When reaching the place I used to lived, the excitement is no longer there
I’m nervous and fearing, what will I meet?
Anticipation fills up the air











We find the aunt’s place, we sit there and wait
You want and need to see your father
No matter how high the rate

The father finally arrived, hardly greeting his son
80 % disappointment
Most of the hope was now gone















I look at my father not looking at me
My friend tries to meet my eyes
Why won’t he?

We talk to your father, try to open his view
To make him see all the good things
That are moving inside of you

My father said cruel things, as cruel as can be
Claiming there’s no way a good man like him
Could be the real father of a brat like me
















He made a gentle offer, though, giving me some land
He’s willing to fulfil his lawful duties
But I don’t think he’ll ever again hold my hand

As if your father hadn’t said enough to hurt you beyond repair
His last words were:
“I know that on many issues, I can currently not see clear.
But of this I’m most certain! I absolutely, 100 % do not want that boy around here!”



I was rendered speechless, rage bubbling inside of me. All I wanted was to take my friend out of there, away from his father, away from the rejection. I wanted to cry and yell at the father and just knock him down for being so awful to this amazing, young, vulnerable boy. However, it would merely cause more problems and hardship from the father, so I kept the 14 year-old mood-swing-behaviour to myself, clenched my teeth and tried to just be there for my friend. And God knows he needed all the support he could get, being called a social deviant, a thief, a hopeless case and hearing that his own father would rather see him in prison than in his home…

We left about thirty minutes after the father had left us in the aunt’s place. The boy had to be allowed to finish crying. When we went, we were all disappointed and quite shocked (except for the CRO resettlement-officer who’s more used to this and has experienced cases that were far worse than this one). When we got back to CRO, the boy didn’t even speak. He was so exhausted, he fell asleep. While he was sleeping, we contacted an aunt. We were going to try our luck there the next day. Nothing to do but hope and pray that it would not lead to another rejection!

Settling the resettlement

We were ready to try yet again.For the second time that week, we put the blanket and the t-shirt in a plastic bag, climed a boda and set off to the same outskirt of Mbale. The boy seemed surprisingly calm and collected. There was even a smile on his face at times. The fear didn't seem to be present anymore. Maybe because he didn't care as much this time. I mean, it couldn't possibly be worse than the previous day! He looked to be quite indifferent, just walking towards our destination with no expectations of any kind, neither good or bad.

Luckily, the aunt and the people around her did not seem indifferent. They gave a completely different reception than the father gave the previous day. They all greeted him, looked at him and talked to him, not just about him. They looked to be genuinely interested in having contact with him and help him. It turend out that he had lived with this aunt before, but he had done something not so good and he'd run away. However, the aunt was willing to forgive and forget. She wanted to give the boy a second chance.

Despite the fact that they were not talking him down, I coud see that the boy was feeling somehow uncomfortable all the while the aunt and the counsellor were talking. He was twiddeling his thumbs and avoiding eye-contact most of the time. It was obvious he was still a bit nervous, even though he had hid it well (and it was obvious he was still trying to hide it), and I could begin to recognize some of the fear and memories from yesterday sneaking in. Needless to say; they were still bothering him.

At least, the aunt and the people around him didn't provide fuel for these burning memories. Even though he apparently did something bad last time, they didn't ramble on about how awful the boy was. They simply took him back. Everything was settled. Yet, the boy still didn't look all that happy, his mind still contemplating on the awful incident of the day before. But at least he had stopped twiddeling his thumbs. His hands now lay calm on the bench where he was seated. It was obvious he wasn't thrilled with the situation, of course he'd rather stay with his father, but he seemed to have come to rest with the current circumstances.

My hope now is that he'll manage to stay in this home for a full week (that's when we'll be coming back). If he's still there, we'll get him into one of the nearby schools for the second term. Then, he'll only be put back one more year. That means he'll commence fifth grade at the age of fifteen. It's not too bad. And if anyone can do this without giving up, it's definitely this inspiring, aspiring young man!

School signs

Signs are made to inform people of various things. They all have some sort of a purpose. Some are made to promote a product or a service, others to help you in the traffic, tell you which street you’re on and such. I Norway, these kinds of signs are highly common. However, the common phenomenon in Uganda of signs in schools are not normally found in Norway.

In Ugandan schools they are found pretty much everywhere. They are there to inform, guide and educate the children in a variety of “subjects”. Like all other signs, there's a reason why they are put where they are and that they are saying what they say. By reading the signs in a place, you can tell a lot about said place. About what sort of information people in the area need to be acquainted with.

The signs contain information on the matters that are important and a large part of people’s lives that people still need some help in handling. The signs also say something about what the people with the power, the “sign-purchasers”, think is important. Let me illustrate with some pictures of signs from Nabuyonga Primary School in Mbale, Uganda.

CLEANLINESS

Being clean, having clean clothes and a clean surrounding is extremely important in Uganda. Lack of cleanliness is pretty much equivalent to lack of money and manners. Let me tell you a story that shows just how important this is to some Ugandans.
A friend of mine from the UK told me about a friend of his who is a water engineer. The engineer started a major project in a rural area of Uganda that was very much bothered by diseases from unclean water. He installed a water-cleansing system so that all the people in that place could access clean water free-of-charge. No more cholera and other awful diseases from water! Genius, huh? But after some time, he went to check on his project and found that no one was using the new system. He could not understand why the people refused to use the healthy water.
There was one major aspect that he hadn't considered; how much foam will the cleansed water produce when washing clothes compared to the dirty water? The answer was easy, the new water made less foam from the same amount of soap when washing clothes than the old water. The people were then left with three options;
1. Use more soap
2. Have clothes that are less clean
3. Keep on using the old water
Number one is not really an option, because soap is very expensive. The second one is not an option due to the internalized notion in the people that cleanliness is EXTREMELY important! Then, there's only one option left.
A little bit crazy, huh? But that's just how important it is to be clean!

STUDYING

Oh, one is supposed to stay in school and finish education? In Norway, this is a given. All children go through at least ten years of school, and all have the opportunity to attend for 13 years. Most young people understand that education is important in order to have a decent life in the future. If they don’t, they probably have parents who do, and who will push/force them to continue if they’re thinking of dropping out. In Uganda, the situation is quite different. School is expensive. Furthermore it deprives the family of a source of income. Even though he or she is just a kid, they can still contribute to the family’s upkeep. When they’re in school, it’s more difficult to contribute to the income. So for some, the parents do not provide the supporting voice which encourages the children to stay in school when times get tough (this does, of course, not apply to everyone, many parents support their children going to school very keenly). And times can really get tough for the Ugandan kids, with strict discipline, very hard work and, at times, harshly direct feedback from the teachers. Therefore, it’s actually quite necessary to have these kinds of reminders around the school compound.

PS

Pop by "The poetic corner" if you've not yet done so. I'm quite the Rhymenoceros, if I may say so myself.

Sign-language

Duh, it’s not English! It’s sign-language!

Still, let’s just pretend that it’s supposed to be English (and a good commercial); find five flaws!

Could've been

This song makes so much more sense to me now, after staying in Uganda for five months and realising how different realities one can face in this world. Seeing how tough conditions the children I work with live in. It is scares me to think about how it would have been to live like they do. Living in such hardship. Luckily for me, it is not. However, I do not think that it is mainly because someone loved me, and did not love these people.The main reason is that they were born in Uganda, while I was born in Norway. It is so fundamentally unfair that this one thing has got so much to say for ones life. Nobody can decide where to be born, we have any impact on that at all. Nevertheless, it is what decides that it could’ve been me, and at the same thing makes sure that it is not me. It is also the same thing that makes it so that it is them…

You should sit down and listen to this song and praise yourself lucky that you are in a position where it could’ve been you, yet it is not.

Kirk Franklin - Could’ve been

It could’ve been me
With no Clothes or shoes and nothing to eat
It could’ve been me
Without your loving, tell me where would I be?

Could’ve been
Me in the cold wind
Everything gone
No house, no job
Outside and alone
Trying to look around
Where would I go
Can’t somebody help me?
Tell me what do I do

The week of 1000 UGSHX / day

Living in Uganda is very cheap compared to Norway. 3 NOK gives you about 1000 UGSHX (ca 0,5 USD). For 3 NOK you can get one banana, if you buy the cheap ones. For 1000 UGSHX, you can get dinner for two people and be a hundred and ten percent full. Late on a Sunday night my dear partner, Marthe, and I started thinking; Hm… could it be possible for us to go a whole week spending no more than 1000 UGSHX per person per day? We decided to give it a shot. Then we figured out it would be a good idea to check what we did and did not have. We had some flour, so we could make scones in the mornings, puh! Some rice and spaghetti was also to be found. The only ting we saw as a potential problem was this; there was one and a half roll of toilet paper left, aiai… Still, we had decided to go through with it, we’d just have to eat a little less one day to have enough for the TP. We were much exited when we went to bed on Sunday, really looking forward to try out our new project!

Day 1

Our total spending today was 0,- UGSHX. We were invited to a missionary family for dinner in the evening. They live far out on the other side of town, but we walked (for one and a half hour) to get there and they drove us back.

Silje: This is going great! It’s so good not having to worry about what to buy or whether to walk or bode (take a boda boda / motorcycle taxi).

Marthe: Yep… It’s looking good. It leads to conscious choices.

Day 2

We spent 2000 today. We bought 4 eggs, onions and yoghurt.

Silje: I’m not feeling too good. Think I’m sick. I have very little energy and appetite and would have loved a Del Monte juice (at 3600) and a movie (3000).

Marthe: It’s still going ok. No problem.

Day 3

and so on and so on...

Our total spending today was 57 000. UGSHX. This was spent on bodas, consultation and tests.

Silje: turns out it’s not all that easy to limit the spending to 1000 UGSHX/day when you get sick. I have malaria.

Marthe, on the other hand, has been very good and not spent any money today!

Even though I’ve been quite bad regarding my spending, I think I deserve some credit for carrying out a night survey (walking in the town centre from midnight until two) with malaria!

Day 4

Total amount spent today was 1700 UGSHX. Wise as I am, I went to work today. Good idea! But at least I didn’t think I’d manage to walk to work. Therefore, I spent 1000 UGSHX on boda. In addition, for food, Marthe bought chapattis for 700.

Day 5

Today, we spent 800 UGSHX. I stayed home the whole day, enjoying my malaria. In the evening, Marthe and I had a lovely pineapple at 800 UGSHX.

Day 6

We spent 2700 today. (Yes, it’s ok because we’ve saved up the excess amount earlier this week) We had lunch in Namatala for 1200 (really full and marvellous lunch!) and bought Blue Band (butter) at 1000 UGSHX (to make cake for tomorrow) and two eggs for 500 UGSHX.

Day 7

Total amount spent today was 4500. We visited a Ugandan friend called Brenda today. On the way to her place, I managed to break my shoe, but a nice chap along the road fixed it for 500 UGSHX. Then, we went to the Internet, spending 1400 UGSHX. We got plenty of food at Brenda’s place, so we didn’t really need anything when we came home. However, we were left with so much money, so we bought sugar for 1200 UGSHX and a roll of toilet paper at 400 UGSHX.

If my math is correct, this means that apart from my major splurge at the hospital (bodas, consulting and tests), we spent 11 400 UGSHX (ca 35-40 NOK) between us the whole week. Meaning we even remained with 3600! Haha! We made it, sort of. If you count in the malaria-expenses, on the other hand, we blasted our budget big time, ending with 68 400 UGSHX (ca 200-210 NOK). Either way, it’s not bad. Nevertheless, it proves an important point; it’s fully possible to live on little… until something unexpected happens. The 1000 UGSHX / day-life can work out, but it takes nothing to mess it up. One little “bzzzzzzz; mosquito-bite” and you’re out. Good experience, though. Mission accomplished!

Is your flat not all that?

Finding a good place to stay when you are studying can be difficult. Even though you are using half of your income just to pay the rent, the flat may not be all that. If you are among the less fortunate ones you might wind up having to share your bedroom with another person. This means you will not be getting any real private space. The situation is not exactly as you would have wanted it to be. However, it could have been worse. It all depends on whom you compare yourself to.

My previous flat in Drammen
2 bedrooms, kitchen, living room, bathroom
7000 NOK / month
4 girls (with approximately 12 000 between them from “Statens lånkasse” every month)
We had to stay two people in one bedroom and use most of our scholarships just to pay the rent. It was fair. Nevertheless, I think we all wanted a bit more space at times. In addition, the bathroom was a bit icky. It looked like the floor was starting to rot some places. From time to time, there was also some water seeping from the floorboards in the kitchen floor. Our flat was on the first floor of a house, on the ground floor there was another apartment. We were not exactly thrilled about them. They acted and looked a bit suspicious. But it was ok, we had a good lock on the door and we even got a second lock to ensure our security further. Still, I did not like sleeping alone in the apartment.

After having spent some months in Uganda, I realise that I did not really have good reasons to worry or be unhappy with anything.

The current home of my twelve-year-old friend in Namakwekwe (Mbale)
1 room (approximately 6 m2)
10 000 UGSHX / month (ca 30 NOK / month)
Mother, younger sister, younger brother, baby brother and my friend (with no steady income)

They are five people sharing one mattress. In their one room, they have a tiny table and two chairs, the mattress and all their clothes are hanging on the walls. When it rains, nothing stays dry. There are small holes all over the ceiling and some places, there are big gaps between the bølgeblikkplater. The neighbourhood is not the best. People are robbed every night; attempts of different kinds of assaults are also quite common. It is not safe to move outside after seven o’clock. Not the most secure place to live as a single mother with four small children. Moreover, they do not exactly have an alarm system or good locks. Nevertheless, they are lucky in one way; they do not have an icky bathroom. They do not have a bathroom, period. In addition, one can look at the price of the room and think; “At least they hardly pay anything to live in this place.” However, 10 000 UGSHX is not hardly anything when you do not have a steady income. If she is lucky, the mother can wash some clothes from one time to another or maybe sell some onions and such to make some small bit of money. Other than that, most of the burden is on my twelve years old friend. He fetches water for neighbours, sells sugar cane and does other petty jobs for a petty pay. All we had to do to get our 3000 NOK a month was to send two letters in a year and attend school. For my friend, attending school and getting the small income he needs can actually come in conflict.

Turns out, we did not actually have a single thing to complain about. Not if we would have compared ourselves to an average family of a CRO child. I am not saying one should feel bad about not living in lousy conditions; one should not be embarrassed or have a bad conscience about living in a nice place. One cannot go around and compare the life in Norway to the life in Uganda. The difference is too big in every way. It would be like comparing a cat and a skyscraper; ridiculously unreasonable (very good example, huh?). Nevertheless, that does not mean one should just shove it under a rug and leave it at that. Occasionally one should stop and think about the ones who are really less fortunate. Think of those whose lives are worlds apart from yours, even though we all live on the same planet. Be happy and grateful for what you have! It surely is all that!

These are some of my girls (Angella Esther, Keem Christine, Loley Joyce and Nampomba Shamilla). They’ve all finished their one year in rehab class. On Monday they got school uniforms and new bags. Now, they’ve completed their first week of formal school. If that’s not motivating, I don’t know what is. Last year they were all on the streets picking what they could find to eat or sell. Now, thanks to CRO, they’re all in school. I have an amazing job!

Whoopsi daisies!

In our pre-course, we were warned that we’d become careless after some time in our new settings. They said that after spending much time in our new settings, we’d start letting our guards down and something bad could happen. I thought; “I will not do that, come on, I’m a reasonable girl. I won’t let my guard too far down. I won’t care less.” And even now, I stick to the “not caring less”-part. But I think I showed the children that I cared in a way I that shouldn‘t have. These sweet little children really got to me, and I cared so much. I just wanted to give them all the love and trust I could. The same applied to the two other volunteer girls in CRO. When all three feel like that, this is what happens;

Three naive girls, sharing a space
It’s their office, supposedly a safe place
And these three girls love showing trust and grace
To see that a young boy feels trusted when you look at his face

Three naive girls sharing a great deal
And, oh, how great sharing makes you feel
Trusting ex-knick knackers will truly make them heal
Trusting them alone in an office with plenty of things to steal

Three naive girls realized, as they should;
That trusting someone way too much, really isn’t good
When taking something small from you can give his dear ones food
The young boy that you trusted so, he did the best he could

Three young girls, not so naive anymore
Being restrictive with their stuff
No longer over-tempting the poor
Three girls knowing a little better that this world is really tough

The kids are not to be blamed. It’s like putting a Norwegian kid alone in a candy shop and expect it not to sample the sweets. And even though it’s a bummer to have people you trust steal from you, it all worked out for the best. We’ve upgraded our office-security and know that we shouldn’t put poor and desperate people in such tempting positions again. Yet another handy lesson learnt! Thanks, Mr. -------! ;)

Ring the bells: Christmas time is coming!

Warning: if you are a highly oversensitive person, you might want to shy away from some of the following pictures. Mohaha!

We have reached the time for getting into the Christmas spirit, decorating the house, buying gifts and making men from snow and ginger bread dough. I would be doing all this and more "Christmassy" stuff if I were at home.

However, I am not. I am in Uganda. And things are somehow different here. When I look out my window there is no snow, just the sizzling sun drying up the ground, making it red and dusty. When I go on the streets, there are no Christmas lights to be seen. The matatus (taxi-vans), bodas (bicycle-taxis), boda bodas (motorcycle-taxis) and buses are driving crazily around, as they always do. Nevertheless, the increase in people in the streets indicates that something is out of the ordinary. In addition, the occasional Christmas carols booming from some blasted speakers in the barbershops remind me of just what this something is. Even though it feels very different this year, I do actually feel the Christmas spirit some times. I had the strongest sense of Christmas spirit so far this year in a setting I never would have imagined. Take a look; does it give you that "good old-fashioned feeling"?

When I first saw the big bag and heard that there was 80 kilos of freshly slaughtered cow (some parts were still quite warm) in it... well... I was not exactly thrilled. Nevertheless, it turned out to be some good fun. I was laughing so hard someti
mes. The situation was just too strange. Standing in a kitchen with the hind legs of a dead cow in your hands, pulling hard to make it easier to slash, at times fearing to be mutilated by an enormous butchers knife (when there were pieces with too big bones in them, you need to bring out the big knife and chop), while hearing Christmas carols from the PA outside. Surreal, but nice!

It was mostly from outside I got the strong sense of Christmas spirit. However, it wasn't caused by the reggae versions of the familiar Christmas carols. It came when I saw the kids. Their faces were simply glowing. You could see the excitement from a miles distance. Some of them were also taking part in the entertainment, I could recognize the very familiar feeling of being nervous and proud, walking around being pre-occupied, wanting to go through the program one last time before the show. The food; rice, meat and a soda probably caused others' excitement! It might be the only meal of this kind the whole year.

Everywhere I looked, there were excited and grateful faces. There were so many positive feelings at the same time; I was almost overwhelmed by the Christmas spirit. People were kind, open and grateful. Grateful to CRO and grateful to God. It was the first Christmas party I've been to where Jesus got a louder handclap and more cheering than the food and presents combined. Different, but in a very good way. The true Christmas spirit was definitely found in most people in CRO on that hot, sunny, dusty, noisy December day.

I wish you all a lovely Christmas celebration and heaps of Christmas spirit!

Pallisa road

I think it was the first day I brought my camera to the CRO. When I got home, I saw that one face reappeared in most of the pictures. It was the face of a young boy.
I hadn't really noticed him before, but the following days I started talking a bit to him. He said that he would like to talk to me again, just the two of us. He had something he wanted to tell me. I was very excited that he actually took the initiative and asked me, and I of course said that I'd love to talk to him, anytime. The problem was just that there was no time the following days. After that, he was no longer attending the project daily.

I hadn't talked to him for a while when I found him half-asleep outside our office. He was soaked with sweat and his forehead was burning. It was still early, so the nurse was not yet there. Therefore, I took him away from the hot sun and put him in our office with a wet cloth on his forehead. He lay on the floor of the office for about fifteen minutes, then he started quivering. I was sincerely worried. When I went outside to check if anyone could help me with the boy, I saw that the nurse had come. The boy and I went from the office to the clinic. The nurse said it was malaria. He got some medication, food and water. During the day, the quivering ended and his temperature stabilised. I was no longer worried. I even thought I could get an opportunity to talk to him the next day. I didn't. After that day, I didn't talk to him at all for a long time. In fact, I didn't see him at all for almost a month.

It's always bad when someone you'd like to talk to doesn't show for a whole month, but it's even worse when it's a street child. You can never know if they have someone to watch out for them, or if they're left to themselves in the dark and dangerous nights.

Luckily, he came back after about a month. He was looking quite shabby, but I didn’t really care; he was there. When I saw him he was on his way out, but he promised to come back the next day so that we could talk. He didn't. Two more weeks without a sign of life. The next time I saw him was when we were on a street walk. He was picking coffee beans by the bus park. The second I spotted him, I went to talk to him. He reeked of fuel. His eyes were hazy. We'd come too late today, he'd already taken his first sniff. Nevertheless, he still remembered me and promised to come back to the CRO. He did.

We finally got the opportunity to talk properly. He told me that he'd spent the month he didn't come to the CRO in Kampala with his father. "What about your mother? Is she also in Kampala?” They weren't. He said that he's got two mothers, I asked how that could be possible. “Which one is your birth mum?” He didn't elaborate. He has two mothers and that’s final. One of them lives in Pallisa, a little more than an hour from Mbale. The other one stays in somewhat closer. He doesn't specify, he just points in a direction and says "There." He doesn't live with her. She beat him every day, that's why he ran away and started going to the streets. Now, he's living with a friend in the slum area. One quick look at the boy shows that his shelter isn't all that. His clothes are worn out and filthy. His fingernails are long and black with dirt. His odour is a mixture of sweat, fuel and clothes worn on a daily basis but washed on a monthly basis. He doesn't really want to live where he lives now; he wants to go to the mother in Pallisa. However, he doesn’t have enough money to go there.

He's wondering if it would be ok for him to ask me something. There are two things that he wants so badly. "Number one... I want a CRO uniform."

This poor young man is talking to a girl whose skin colour practically screams; "ATM, cash withdrawal!" and all he's asking for is a shorts and a t-shirt from the CRO, he's not even asking for anything from me personally.

His second request was this one; "And I want to go back to school". He's actually motivated to go back to school. That is really a huge deal considering the fact that he's seventeen and will have to resume primary four.

We lay a plan together on how he'll achieve these two goals. The first thing is that he'll have to keep coming to the CRO. He promised to keep coming throughout December, and in return, I promised to have some private tutoring with him in English, maths and computer. In January, he'll start the rehabilitation class, where he'll be given the CRO uniform. After the rehabilitation class, he'll be off to school. I will do what I can to make sure that the school is in Pallisa, where the non-violent mother lives. The road to Pallisa is long and bumpy. It's not going to be an easy ride. I merely hope we can commence the journey and travel some of the distance together.

Days of our lives

In a blog, you're supposed to write about things that might interest others. I haven't written a blog in a long time, I haven't found all that much I think will interest others. However, during the last couple of weeks, we've had quite a few visitors, and I realised that our everyday lives are actually quite exotic and interesting in their eyes. Therefore, I figured it might be just that to others as well, hence, I'll blog about it. I'll take you through an ordinary day here in Mbale.

I get up at about seven; turn on the oven and start preparing scones for breakfast.

Marthe and I eat and chat for a little bit too long every morning and rush a bit through brushing the teeth and, for me, putting my hair up (it's way too hot to wear it down, even though this is the cold season!). We then walk the thirty minutes to CRO. About ten-fifteen strangers greet us every day during these thirty minutes. They're all asking how we are. The weird ting is that almost none start asking until we've passed each other. Moreover, they keep on talking as they walk in the opposite direction, back to back (it's amazing how long you can keep a conversation going while you're walking away from each other, back to back. Marthe once witnessed such a conversation stretching out for about fifty meters!). When we're about halfway to the CRO, we hear shouting from a distance "Silia! Mafhotte!" Some of the kids from the CRO catch up with us and we walk the last bit together.

When we reach the CRO, the doorkeeper, called Mordercai, opens up the gate for us and welcomes us, followed by about five-ten kids who come over and say hi. Then, we're off to morning devotion. It lasts for an hour and contains prayer, worship and a special message from one member of staff (or two, as is the case when Marthe and I are in charge). After the devotion, I teach my class which consists of the children who are about to join P1 (first class in primary school) in numbers. I do so in what is usually the dining, but for the occasion we've put the benches and tables like desks and chairs in a class room, and a portable blackboard is put on one of the tables, then; I try my very best to teach them how to count, but above all how to concentrate. That can truly be challenging sometimes, but it's not easy to stay angry with them. They're just too sweet and lovable!

After class, the kids have porridge (maize flour and water) and I try to make sure they don't make too much of a mess. The kids themselves clean up the mess that they've made before they can play. Oftentimes, I join the kids when they are playing around in the compound, other times I take one kid aside and have private tutoring or counselling. Sometimes, we also just goof around in our office and have fun with a camera.

Then, it's lunchtime. Mmmmm... lunchtime! We eat beans and posho every day, except for when we have visitors; then we get meat. Nevertheless, I actually prefer the posho and beans. It's yummy! In addition, we also get the world's best fresh passion fruit juice! After lunch we train the kids in our groups in various circus games, I'm in charge of the Chinese plates group. They've made me so proud in the presentations the previous week!

When the day in CRO is over, we do some grocery shopping and go home. The way home is pretty much the same as when we're going to the project; many people greet us and make us feel very welcome. When we've reached home, we drop our bags and I sometimes head to Namatala (the slum area) by myself. I go to buy fruit and vegetables for dinner in the marked. It's really a nice trip to take, especially now that people are starting to recognize me, and say Silia, not just Mzungo. I buy lovely avocadoes and tomatoes from Juliet, the mother of a girl in the CRO, and bananas from a woman that only speaks Swahili. I'm always overjoyed when I understand the price she's giving me, and she's always laughing when I don't get it.

After shopping for dinner for the two of us, spending about 1500 UGSX (4,50 NOK), we go home and prepare the food. When the electricity is out, we sit outside and light up our paraffin cooker.

If there's still some spirit left in us after the dishes, we go out our door and into the library and start a disco with our great, African comrades. We do salsa, swing and other fun stuff until we're too tired to keep going.

At that time, Marthe and I retreat to have a little time with each other before going to sleep. We do as Jack Johnson expresses so neatly in "Banana pancakes"- we close the curtains, pretend like there's no world outside. Good night, Uganda!