It was a Sunday evening, and I was sitting in a packed church in my local town squirming uncomfortably in my seat. I found myself staring at the ground averting my eyes and looking anywhere but the tv screen on the wall in front of me where the scene was playing out. Yet, I could hear that little girls voice as she spoke of how every Friday she carries manure from home to her school. How after her morning classes her and her friends mix the manure with water and smear it across her classroom floor with their bare hands. They do this to seal in the dust and make a smooth surface that at best lasts only for a week before they begin the whole process again. I didn’t want to hear it, ‘why are the’ telling me this…why can’t they just go back to the children singing, that was beautiful, this is awful and what can I do to change it…there are so many kids in Uganda experiencing life like this and this is only one little girls’ story, how can I possibly make a difference!? I said to myself. That four minute video felt like the longest one I had watched in my life, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me when it ended and the children started to sing again.
I had gone with my aunt to see the New Life Children’s Choir that had flown over from Uganda to sing for us. They were visiting Northern Ireland as part of the work of the local charity Abaana. They had come to raise awareness of what life is like for people in East Africa and to promote the work of the charity. Abaana help to build schools, provide social housing for street kids and essential resources like pumps to purify the water there; in order to make it fit for human consumption. Another little girl told her story of how she and her mum have to walk for over four miles each morning just to carry fresh drinking water back home for them and her little brother and sister. That evening I felt such a mix of emotions. Elation when the kids initially ran out to start their performance, waving and smiling at us all as they burst into song. And the sense of horror and helplessness when listening to their stories. But what really struck me in the midst of that was the peace and acceptance of those who told their stories. There was no sadness, no victim mentality, that is just how their life is. And it made me so very grateful for what I have and the things that we take for granted in Western Society.
When the event was over and we were gathering our things to leave I still felt that sense of despair. But then the most remarkable thing happened. A moment that touched my heart in ways that I couldn’t have even begun to imagine. The kids came out and started to walk up to people in the congregation. One little girl came up to me. I knelt down to speak with her and thank her for her beautiful singing. She threw her arms around me and give me the biggest hug as she thanked me for coming to listen to her. I felt a wave of emotion rise form my chest. I was choked up and it took me all my time to stop the tears from flowing. In that moment I knew that I wanted to do something, anything, to help make a difference for this little girl who stood in front of me.
As I composed myself and made my way out of the church I chatted with others who had gathered that evening. I could see the love and compassion through their facial expressions. I felt the energy in the room that told me that everyone had been uplifted by what we had just experienced. And in that moment I realised that if every one of us there did something, made one small donation, sponsored one child, one simple gesture each, that collectively we really could make a difference.
So, I went home, went onto Abaana’s website and signed myself up to be part of a team of volunteers that would go out to Kampala to help refurbish schools and work with the children. I remember the feeling of excitement when I got the email to say I had been accepted onto the team and it’s amazing to think that I will be making my way out there in less than 4 weeks’ time. I am so looking forward to working with the children. And while I know that it may well be challenging in parts, both physically and emotionally. I imagine it will be so very rewarding but most importantly, together we can make a difference in the lives of people who need it most.
I have set up a JustGiving page to raise much needed funds to support Abana’s great work and I’m currently organising a Family Funday, fundraiser in the beautiful seaside town of Portrush in Northern Ireland. A day full of magic, music and laughter where collectively we can make a difference. So, if you live local, save the date, it’s being held on the 20th September.
And if you’d like to know more about my plans for my upcoming trip to Uganda, follow my journey or get involved you can read more here: https://leannemccafferty.com/uganda-empowerment-fund/
And as I reflect on all of this I am reminded of that wonderful quote by Helen Keller; ‘Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much’
