Down A Long Red Road
The sun was colorfully setting in the West. Beautiful red and orange pastels swept across the Ugandan horizon. Just another act in this part of Uganda that never failed to amaze me. Across the Pearls landscape unfolding banana plants spread out as far as that dying sunset. Occasional avocado trees dot the painting with height and a deep texture of green, turning darker green as the sun moves away from our landscape. On my left, chickens scamper through the underbrush. Goats, tied to trees, quietly gnaw on the bushes to my right. I’m always amazed at the beauty of this land.
But, for the four small children we met up playing along the side of the road the sunset, the banana trees, the avocado trees, goats and chickens are all just a background that sometimes colors their pain, their hunger, their delicate dreams.
Noeline, her sister, and baby brother and their young friend greet us with careful smiles. Alon our leader, who knows the family, knows why they are guarded. I step around the white and black rabbits popping up out of the grass, escaping the brick hut like an invisible boot is kicking them out of the mud brick home. A small brown dog greets me, he’s hungry, he’s guarded too.
The children line up politely to greet us, welcome us to their home. Alon, understands why they are guarded, ‘What have you eaten today?”, he gently asks them. They don’t answer at first. Noeline looks to her sister and small tears escape from the corner of their eyes.
They are hungry. They haven’t eaten all day. Not a word of complaint or protest. Humility has a habit of knocking me off my feet when face to face with a hungry child. These little, hungry children, wearing dirty, torn clothes, are survivors. Strong, perilous survivors.
Their mother has been working in a field all day. She works not for money for the home. She works to keep the home. The landlord gave them the home for shelter and in return they work the land. Her husband died a year ago.
An infant the older sister carries on her back was hungry mid-day, she reports. So, they took the baby to their mother working the field. She breast fed the baby. The baby stopped crying, and they returned home.
Like these children I quickly began to ignore the beautiful sunset. I no longer noticed the majesty of the spreading banana trees. Even the animals, that dot the landscape, seemed to fade into the bush. I asked Alon if Noeline has a sponsor, “No, she does not. She is very bright but will struggle if she doesn’t have the basics to continue.”, he said with the sincerity of a saint.
I usually ask my wife about big decisions, like sponsoring a child. But she was 9 hours away in California and I was here in the dying light of the Uganda evening. My heart was broken.
Alon asked if there was a small store close by. “Yes.”, said Noeline almost silently. So, we ventured up the hill to buy some bread, sodas and cookies for the kids. And, on the way back from the small wooden store, a small blue bag of food in my right hand. I held Noeline’s hand with my left hand and walked back to her home on the peaked, narrow red path to her home.
Holding the precious, small hand of a hungry child made my ‘big decision’ easy. My wife and I are going to sponsor this child.
Once I got the link from Alon a simple process of signing her up for the Caritas Sponsorship program was complete.
It’s late September 2024 and I’m here in Noeline’s home area for now. Within a couple of weeks, I’ll return home to New York. I will never forget the memories of that long red road that led up to Noeline’s home.
Noeline and dozens of other children will forever be in my thoughts and prayers. In the months and years to come I will look forward to hearing from her. And I will be praying that other children like Noeline will soon get sponsors too.
You can find a child to sponsor to: CLICK HERE