Family Matters

In Kaliro Village, I learn to do without, to take things slower, to shed conveniences. The house where we stay has no running water or electricity. If we want water for washing, laundry, cooking, or showering, we must walk with empty jerry cans down the dusty road to the village well, wait in line, fill them, and then lug them back to the house (they are extremely heavy!)

  There are no toilets, only an outhouse with a long drop (a deep deep hole in the ground). 

Bathing is an adventure. Here's our open air shower:

I fill the blue bucket with water hauled from the well and use the cup to pour water on my head. The chill of the water makes me shudder and gasp with each pour. I juggle the fear of being seen naked by some village children (the door is broken and another house stands a mere ten feet away) and the fear of being attacked by the large black pig who roams freely. I can hear the pig's grunting as he forages a little too close to the shower. 

We wash dishes outside in teams and it feels kind of like camping, except that for the villagers around me, this is their way of life...not a recreational experience. 

 

And because the living of life takes on a new meaning here, everything takes more time and everything requires more physical effort, I recognize another difference in the people. 

Family matters. 

Family matters because they truly depend on each other.

I watch a family working together in the muddy rice field early in the morning; their pants lay folded neatly on the side of the road because they have waded into the mud, past their knees, to plant.  Two parents and four children. The mom carries the youngest on her back, tied with a swatch of fabric.

Children also take care of each other.  Time and time again I see young children taking care of even younger children.

Like this girl and her baby sister:

 Like this boy and his brother.

 

Like these brothers who walk 2 km to fill their jerry cans together and walk back home together. (Love the Seahawks shirt btw!)

 Like this girl who sits with her sleeping sister on her back while the rest of the children play around them.

Family matters. Of course I know this. I love my family. My family matters to me. But perhaps we've been living below our potential. There is something beautiful about seeing siblings take care of each other - without promise of babysitting payment, without an allowance, and even without an attitude of their responsibility being a burden. Taking care of each other is just part of life. 

Sometimes my family gets so caught up in our own interests (case in point - I went to Uganda by myself!), that we lose sight of the importance of each other. Of working together. Of caring for each other. Of looking out for each other. Of being responsible for each other.

Again, in a place of so little materially, I learn so much about what really matters.