Entebbe Road

08/20/05

That was nuts. Let me start at the beginning. I met Paul and Collins on Monday at the National. They are both orphans that grew up on the streets of Kampala, and they were talking about their efforts to help other kids get off the streets and stay off the streets.

Today we went to a couple of the organizations they work at, first was Visions Of Youth, which is ex-street kids that have this teeny workshop with no floor or roof and do interesting woodcarvings. We talked and I interviewed the 'leader', Mark. I would like to try and connect them with Christina Jordan (the Ashoka fellow who runs Life In Africa, which sells crafts from here on ebay.) Next we went up to a home that was just started by a German lady, where about 15 young boys live. All of these kids were living on the street. They all lost their parents in different ways, some from the war in Rwanda, some from the war in Northern Uganda, some from HIV/AIDS, and some simply ran away from home because of abuse. For all the hardships they had faced, they all seemed very well adjusted. Paul and Collins are teaching them how to make little beaded necklaces and bracelets, and we did that while we talked. After this we went to Cornerstone, the group that took Paul and Collins and a few of the other guys in off the streets. Then lunch. Paul and Collins started talking more about their own experiences on the streets, where they used to stay (Entebbe Road or the old taxi park) and how they used to eat (out of dumpsters or by scavenging bottles and scrap metal to sell.) I asked if it would be possible to see some of the kids still living on the street.

They took me down to Entebbe Road, where the city's destitute hang out. We saw it all: skin diseases, no legs, orphan after orphan. I couldn't believe it. I had walked right by there a few days earlier and hadn't even noticed. Paul told me to start shooting. I did. Mistake? At first we had a semblance, Paul or Collins would introduce someone, and start asking them questions, translating. But soon it descended into madness. It started raining (at first just a few drops, so I kept rolling, but I quickly got nervous) so I put the camera away. One little orphan girl had been so effecting that I couldn't help but reach into my pocket and grab a coin for her. That was the mistake. Welcome to the shit storm. I was totally surrounded by Kampala's most desperate, and now it was hands everywhere, grabbing. Collins came to my rescue, I gave him a little handful of coins and he started trying to pass them out. He was mobbed. The sheer crush of bodies, the desperation of the situation made me take the camera back out and try to capture some of it. But that brought the hoard back to me. And now they were aggressive. I stashed the camera again and tried to retreat, but hands were everywhere, grabbing at my arms, my bag, my pockets. I was trying to give out a few more small coins, but there were so many hands, so much shouting. A fingernail scratched my face and I decided it was time to get out of there. I turned and pushed out of the crowd, Paul and Collins flanking me. The crowd followed, still shouting. Someone started playing drums, another guy had bells. And these weren't children following us, these were ragged, desperate, angry adults. We crossed the street, they followed. It was such a scene. I needed to get somewhere safe and dry so that I could check on the camera, so I started walking fast, up through Nakesero Market, past the Ludo square, and finally got to an overhang out of the drizzle. I stopped and opened up the bag, just a few drops of rain on the camera, it was fine. But all of sudden, we were surrounded again. They had stopped with the percussion, so I hadn't seen them coming. Paul said some harsh words in Lugandan and most of them dissipated. But the biggest guy just followed and followed, down the hill and into the taxi park, where we finally lost him. Collins informed me that he had been asking for a pair of shoes… It was crazy. I still don't know what to think. It was just such an intense scene of suffering and desperation. One lady, with this terrible skin disease on her face, had 12 kids. Her husband was dead from AIDS. They all looked so hungry and helpless and miserable, and who knows hoe many of them where sick themselves? What can you do?

A solution lies in the programs that Paul and Collins are pursuing, and that needs to get the focus, not just the pure misery and unfortune. But how can you help it? Why is misery so compelling? I need to go shower some of this filth off, dehydrate (the way those kids can't), and reevaluate.

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