I rested in the shade across the street from Nando’s that Friday morning before I realized I had malaria. Resting should have given me the clue…I’m used to walking far and carrying much but this day I was beat. A little girl dressed in bright pink halter and capris wandered past holding the hand of a large man who turned out to be her uncle. It crossed my mind to give her a doll, but that would take too much effort on my part so I opted to simply watch her little cuteness walk past. A few minutes later she appeared again. We all know what that means…she’d get a dolly.
I cautiously approached because we all know children should not take gifts from strangers. I introduced myself in Luganda, even though she knew English very well, thinking she might warm up more. With her uncle’s permission, I extended the gift to Bronia who would not take the dolly for anything. Nothing doing. She simply ignored me. In the end I gave the dolly to her uncle hoping that later, when I was out of sight, she would accept the gift. People from all around, total strangers, look on as I tried to give this little doll and they all said at various times, “she’s fearing you.” True.
From a distance I snapped one photo – still feels odd…here’s a gift, can I take your picture – and left Bronia to her uncle. Here’s the cool thing…this has never happened before…probably because the gifts are usually given in the village. I received an email from Bronia’s mother, an address she got from the little card around the dolly’s neck indicating that the gift was from Katie. She thanked me profusely and inquired a bit about the ministry. She says she’d love to send Katie an email in thanks but I don’t have that email. So, Katie…if you see this…send me a note and you might have a pen pal.