Up From The Kisenyi Slums

08/22/05

I'm feeling good. But today started bad. Really bad.

I went with Paul in the morning to 'the place where most of the guys hang out during the day.' I don't really know why after the shit storm on Saturday, but I didn't know what to expect, I thought it might be a little more mellow. We walked out of Central Kampala down to an industrial area that makes Central's industrial area look like Disneyland. We stepped over broken cement and piles of rotting vegetable matter and broken metal. We turned down an alley that ran above a thin brown waterway. There was foot traffic coming both ways, so we had to squeeze up against the wall so a lady could pass without falling into the sewage. A guy was pissing against a wall. We crossed a rickety wooden plank to get to the other side of the water. It opened into a sort of courtyard, if you could call it that. Wood and mud shacks facing a mud pit. Young kids played, a few dogs were laying around looking dead. 'Here we are.' Kisenyi Slum. 'This is bad' I thought. Paul talked to Pissing Guy, who appeared to be some sort of leader. He explained why we were there, and the guy said cool, told me to start filming. I was realizing that this courtyard wasn't contained, there were slum alleys jutting off from it in all directions, and dozens of people staring at my intrusion. I asked if it was really okay, if people were going to be upset, feel we were invading their privacy. Paul said 'Its okay!' with a big smile. Out came the DVX.

I was sort of led by Paul, Pissing Guy (who was now smoking a joint), and a few others around the courtyard, into some shacks piled with scrap metal (the 'cash crop' of Kisenyi) and then down an alley. I realized there weren't dozens of people, but hundreds. We kept walking, looking in shops, stopping to try and talk to people or when kids wanted to pose. Paul ran into a girl he knew from Cornerstone. She was living on the streets again and nursing a baby boy. We kept on. Some people weren't happy that we were there, and made it clear, but Paul kept insisting that it was okay. Then there was a bit of a scuffle with some kid who was trying to say that people were trying to get into my bag, that we were stupid for being there with a nice camera. He was probably right. But we pushed on. The alley hit a T, and we swung left. I realized with relief that we weren't going to have to backtrack, that this path led to the otherside of the Kisenyi. We got to a field. Paul recognized some old friends and started talking. Soon we were surrounded. I was still rolling. I played chase with some of the young kids, they were all smiles and laughter. But then things got ugly. A guy asked for money. Remembering Entebbe Road, and seeing the dozens of people surrounding us, I said no. The guy got mad and started shouting at Paul. So I trained the camera on him. Whoops. He got angrier. We didn't have to run, we just walked quickly. He shouted at us from behind. We continued walking, passing a few guys with machetes, then a few sick looking cows. We were still being followed by a dozen kids. We followed the creek of sewage where kids were filling jerry cans (presumably to drink), mothers were washing their babies, and teenagers were bathing. This was our last stop before we were (finally) out of the slum and back on the main road. Up about 100 yards was a mural. It said something like 'Streets kids: a real problem.' And showed a kid shooting heroin and two others smoking pot. 2 kids had followed us up ther hill. They just wanted to tell Paul that they were tired of living on the streets.

We pushed on to the Heritage Roots House, where the YCOBA boys (all of the kids that had 'graduated' from the Cornerstone house) live. Looking at these guys you would never believe the tough childhood they had, or the lack of education. We talked about the group, what its purpose was, what they hoped to accomplish in the future. Basically, they all wanted to find sponsors so they could finish high school, maybe attend uni, get jobs, and help other kids get off the streets. Next I interviewed them one by one, hearing their personal stories from the streets. Some crazy stuff. But we got pulled into the Director's office, who seemed worried that I hadn't gone through appropriate clearance channels or that I was doing some sort of expose on missued funds or something. I assured him I had the best intentions. Next we went up to the Cornerstone house. In other circumstances, this place would be considered substandard. 4, 6, 8, guys to a room, long drop toilet in the back, wood fire for cooking. No furniture other than bunk beds and a couple of long tables. But to these guys it was home, and you could tell. And after seeing the slum this morning, I could see why. It was a castle fit for kings. We talked to the kids and the mentors, and they tried to articulate the change that getting off the streets made in there life, and how bad they all wanted to go to school.

After lunch, we walked up to Makere University campus for a performance of Ugandan Heritage Roots. This is all former street kids who do traditional Ugandan dancing and singing at weddings and events, in exchange get a place to live and food to eat. A cool organization. They are very talented, and it was nice to watch the performance. Afterwards we all split up, with plans to meet at the National for music. I took a shared taxi back, dropped off the camera, and went to grab some dinner. I was eating, and Ronnie, one of the YCOBA boys appeared, We started talking, this that and the other, and we started walking to the theater. It was as we walked along the streets he used to live on that he started opening up in a way he hadn't earlier. He told me a little about how he used to beat up other street kids and take their money, instill fear. How each different street had a leader (his street was Kwame Rd.) and how the different 'families' would battle each other from time to time. Then he told me about a guy who had punched him in the face and dislocated his jaw (which is still messed up) when he was 10 and had just started living on the streets. The guy had said 'Welcome to Kampala.' Later the guy had poured gasoline on the canvas Ronnie was sleeping under and lit it on fire. Ronnie plotted his revenge for 5 years, and finally found the guy sleeping and beat him unconscious, and then tied him up and threw him in a storm drain. The guy was never heard from again. Finally he told me that on New Years day, his best friend was shot point blank by a police officer and died in Ronnie's arms. That was when he decided to get off the streets. We were at the National by this time, sitting on a wall with the other locals. I hadn't even realized it. Paul and Collins and Seppi showed up. We went up stairs and hung out, listened to music. We wanted to get a beer, but the bar was closed, so we left. Walking down the streets at midnight with these four guys that had lived on them was an experience I wont forget. They came alive, got all this energy. Back to their old hunting grounds… We ran into three young kids, the smallest carrying a sack, looking for scraps. Our guys stopped them and took the sack, started poking through it to show me. The kids looked a bit nervous that they wouldn't get their sack back. They had a thin blanket, a 'rain jacket' (plastic bags) and a few pieces of scrap metal and electrical. They said they would get 100ush for each of the sockets. The youngest kid recognized me from Kisenyi, and asked were the camera was. We laughed and gave them back their sack, did the little 'one love' fist pound that everyone loves here.

We made it to a dive bar and went in, got drinks. Half a beer down I started telling them the idea that had been formulating in my head all day. Basically, I think they are coming at the idea of sponsors backwards. With all the young orphans out there, especially up in the North where they have been abducted and brutalized by the LRA, there is too many kids looking for school sponsors. Instead of trying to get sponsors so they could become successful and then help other kids get off the streets, they should help other kids get off the streets, so that people take notice and want to sponsor them. We worked out an idea. One room, which could house 6 kids, would cost 40,000ush a month. If each kid could pay 250ush a night (14 cents), the room would be paid for. The key would be the YCOBA boys, coming in the evening, counseling, teaching English, sex ed, music, crafts, etc. This doesn't get any of the kids to school, they're still spending their day scrounging, washing dishes, carrying luggage, etc, but at least they are off the streets at night, not sleeping in boxes, not bathing in sewage. And if its successful, it could expand. To another room, maybe to a whole house. And that is when the YCOBA boys could be applying for scholarships and sponsors. Former street kids making sacrifices to get other kids off the streets is powerful. The guys were very energized by the idea, they hadn't looked at it that way before, they had always talked about getting some kids off the streets but didn't see how they could until they had jobs. It would probably cost $300 to start the pilot, to pay for the bunk beds, mattresses, blankets, and 3 months deposit on the room. If I cant figure out to help them apply for that funding, I may ask for it for my birthday… Getting 6 kids off the streets would be a good enough present.

I'm worried about stretching myself too thin, getting involved with too many groups that need help. But I don't think this was a bad diversion from my main project. In fact, I don't even think its entirely a diversion. A lot of these kids are on the streets because their parents died from HIV/AIDS. $300 is one headshot session, 3 hours of unit work… if that could really get 6 kids off the streets for good, it would be well worth it. I left it with the YCOBA boys to get their whole group together, to find a possible room, to draw the beginnings of the proposal. If it looks good, when I come back to Kampala to visit Reach Out and Pfizer I will have to try and help.

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