More about Bunafu

… continuation:

The TMU facilitator, Anthony, or Batwali, who, with his wife Betty is responsible for all the orphans in the area, made what seemed a comprehensive and articulate summary of the proposed deal. He spoke in Lusoga, however, so Peter translated for Camille and me ‘sotto voce’. Once the terms were agreed upon in theory, a statement was laboriously worked out and hand-written by one of the elders, with ancient carbon sheets between each of 3 pages, and with much advice offered by interested parties. Then the statement was taken around to each of the persons involved, for the signature of those who could write their names, and for the right thumb-print of those who could not. I found it interesting that some of the elderly grandmothers and grandfathers could write their name while their granddaughters could not ~ so much for free universal primary education in Uganda.

Peter and Camille had to sign on behalf of Teen Missions ~ then, to my great surprise, the statement was passed to me to write my name and then sign it, which I dutifully did. So, I am now an official witness to a land transfer in the bush village of Bunafu, Uganda! Life never ceases to amaze me with its unpredictability! I love it!!

Following the signing, and a fair bit more sitting around, a feast was provided to celebrate the occasion. It had been prepared by Betty, Batwali’s wife, who had taken no part in the official proceedings. The meal consisted of rice, potato, matoke (cooked banana, not sweet), rather bitter greens, peanut sauce and yummy cooked chicken that was not so athletic that you could neither chew nor swallow it, as happened 2 years ago in Bugoi. It was an unusually elaborate meal and the parts of it I ate were tasty. Since it was now 3pm and we hadn’t eaten since 7am it was fully appreciated. I’ve become fairly used to eating whenever meals happen, and also to eating meals such as the above, though the meat is unusual.

Before we left it became apparent that there was an expectation of financial remuneration for the officials and the family. So a lengthy discussion ensued as to who needed to be paid, how much and how to make the payment. We eventually left around 4pm ~ a fairly full day.

In the evening we went to Jinja to the internet café where I sent off the first part of this story to you, and Camille desperately tried to get in contact with TMI. Then back to Nakabango to wash off all the red dust in a shower that is either scalding hot or cold, then to dry my hair standing on one leg as I used the toes on the other foot to keep the plug of the hairdryer in the wall.
This morning Camille had a staff meeting, so I painted the outside of the two large metal security gates that form the entrance to the TMU compound. The colour was a charming battleship gray ~ now there’s a “designer colour” if ever I’ve seen one! The gates are solid metal and are deeply pitted with kazillions of tiny to sizeable holes, so it took some work to fill them all in with paint. Christian Ed would have been proud of me! I got a bit of help from Peter’s 4-year-old daughter, who painted happily for an hour or so with a feather she’d found!

In the afternoon I walked down to the Forrest Newland Rescue Unit, down the hill from the base. There some of the women that make the banana-stem pictures I sell when Jack and I make presentations etc. were working on various projects. It was so nice to finally meet them, after selling their work for some time (I then send the proceeds back to them to help them pay the school fees for their High School children). They were friendly, and most of them spoke some English. I photographed them working, so that will make a nice display.

Tonight Camille and I made some dish bags for some of the girls who are living in the dorm at Bunalwenyi which we’ll be visiting tomorrow.

Well, I’m being dive-bombed by a large black insect, so I think I’ll stop, snuggle under my mosquito net, which would not be much of a challenge for any mosquito with normal intelligence to penetrate, but which does protect me from showers of tiny insects falling on me from the light above….and turn off the light.

God bless you all,
Ja Ja Jello (the latest version of my name. Ja Ja means grandmother.)