Cassie with a group of precious Ugandan Children

     In my first week in Gulu, the children had not arrived back from spending their holiday with their families in the bush. After getting a little restless sitting around the house, I decided to go exploring around the area that we lived. I knew there was a bore hole not far away from the house so I took off in that direction. On the way to the bore hole (not exactly sure where I was heading) I ran into an elderly woman who must have been in her 70s. She was barefoot and in a ragged dress that must have been the only one she owned. She wore one strand of beads around her neck and her hair was cut close. On top of her frail head, she carried a jerry can that must have weighed around 50 pounds, full of water she had just retrieved. She stopped and smiled at me, and wished me a good morning in Acholi. I caught a bit of what she said and wished her well in my broken Acholi back. She did not speak English at all and started speaking to me in Acholi like a long lost friend. I picked up bits and pieces of what she was saying. Finally she offered me "pea" which in Acholi means water, while gesturing to the water that she had balanced on her head. I was so honored but knowing I would get sick from it I humbly declined. In that moment I realized that I was not in the Western world anymore.

     I was humbled that this woman, who had never met me and had labored a thirty minute walk with at least 20 pounds of water on her head, had offered me the water that she needed to survive. I realized later that this woman was our next door neighbor and I would try to visit her at least once a day. We would sit outside her hut in silence but yet those moments spoke volumes to me and are the times that stand out most to me. On the day I left Gulu, I told her I would be back soon, with the help of Francis as an Interpreter. She joked back that she won't be around for long so I must come back soon. I really do hope she is still there when I return to Gulu, so that I can sit under her thatch roof once more in unawkward silence.

Cassie Matcham

April 2010