by Ella Potter, age 15, who visited Uganda with her dad Dan
I tried to just stretch my leg out from under myself and the group of small children around me looked at me wide-eyed, as if worried I was about to leave them. It felt strange to be getting such attention for being the young ‘mzungu’ girl (white person). I seemed to be being used as a temporary climbing frame!
Any hope of personal space had disappeared the moment I tried to teach the Okey Cokey to two full classes at once. Imagine fifty children all turning themselves around at slightly different times: chaos, confusion, and the loudest laughter I’ve ever heard. This kept coming up during our trip — I went thinking we had something to offer, but Uganda taught me and my dad so much more. From visiting the vocational college, our stay in the national park, and the Acholi community in Kampala, it was a whirlwind of a trip that taught us wonder and gratitude.
At Hopeful Haven (informal education group), we heard stories that changed how I see the world. Steven, shared about how he was once scraping together money as a young boy from selling scrap metal (often stolen) and was enticed by gangs and drugs, but now has had the chance of sponsorship at a local school, and proudly passes on his knowledge as he teaches the younger children at Hopeful Haven. “Professor Bongomin”, a lovely young man, taught us about Ugandan culture, history, and why his community look forward to returning to his family’s tribal land in the north of the country. The children were funny and bright, yet sometimes heartbreakingly aware of how hard life can be.
There were serious things to take on board, but it wasn’t all a serious time… I now know how to wash clothes Ugandan-style (lots of soap, lots of sunshine, lots of chat), how to make beads from paper, and how to do traditional dancing (badly, but enthusiastically). I was met with kind laughter when I didn’t know how to answer what seemed like simple questions such as how a tumble dryer works, or why the UK has seasons!
Home visits were the hardest and the most beautiful moments. I’ll never forget the young mum we met, only fifteen, holding her little boy, whose whole face lit up as soon as he saw her. In that tiny house, with so little materially, there was still love and joy.
I thought I was going to Uganda to give something. Instead, I came home full, after being hosted so generously everywhere we went. We’re full of stories, full of laughter, full of questions, and with a new idea of what community really means.
