Saturday is market day in Kawuku and today was no exception. Vendors pack the market space with everything from plastics, to electronics, to airtime, to meat sitting in the sun all day. I’ll rethink my chicken stew idea. Sadly, increasingly fewer shoppers sprinkle the isles…prices rise for no apparent reason and customers can no longer afford the luxury of a basin that isn’t cracked in two places.
Carrying two big bags of little girly clothes from Liz attracts more spite than honey. If I give clothing away, that means the vendors aren’t making money. By Ugandan standards, I probably had a year’s wages of clothing in these bags. So…I dodged the boda-bodas and slimy pits in the walkway as I headed to the back of that alley way where children were playing.
Along the way I came across some hopeful prospects for this abundant blessing, each of which wore something pink or purple. Upon request, however, I was told that these were boy children. In Uganda, color does not signal gender but even so I wanted to be sure these pretty clothes went to a girl.
Tasha was sitting on the steps leading to a vendor stall with three other boys. Hmm…just the right size. I asked the nearby lady whose child she was and was led behind the building to the maama. Everyone watches out for everyone. I showed the clothing to Tasha’s maama and she asked, “how much are you selling these for?” My reply, these are a gift for you from a lady in America. We want to show you that God loves you and that he is a God of abundance not of poverty.” She blinked. Paused. Grinned. Shook her head…and said thank you.