The Uganda Project

KALAGALA, Uganda - My journey to Africa last fall was by far the most outstanding of my life, thanks to eight young Ugandan trumpeters. I was with my family in the village of Kalagala - without my wife - to dedicate a high school building in her memory, the late Diane Kroeker, mother of my three daughters.

We were nine people - daughter Kirsten with husband Bryan and 17-year-old grandson Justin; daughter Lara with partner Loc and 7-year-old granddaughter Zoe; and daughter Rebecca with partner Wayne.

During the previous year we had collected enough musical instruments and raised enough funds to add a music department to the Fisher Branch Kalagala High School. As a result of our "Uganda Project", a new structure measuring 90 feet long by 26 feet wide was erected.

Dedication day was Monday, November 28, 2005, a new date for my family to replace February 29, 2004 when Diane drowned in the Pacific undertow off the coast of Guatemala while trying to save the life of someone else. That's another story that we as a family have told many times since Diane passed away.

Now we have another story to tell.

All of us were there for the official opening: Rebecca and Wayne had arrived in Uganda November 1; Lara, Loc and Zoe November 14; Bryan and Justin the weekend before.

Kirsten and I arrived November 21. We sensed something powerful when we arrived. My two younger daughters, tanned and wearing sandals, looked happier than they had ever been since the day of their mother's tragic death, and the students - more than 100 - were uttering the Ugandan cry of happiness and excitement as we drove into the school’s compound. The sound of the cry is a distinctive kind of warble that comes when you yell and put your hand to your mouth back and forth quickly.

It was the power of love we felt.

Godfrey Mawejje, a member of the secular school's board of directors, was there that week and asked if we wanted to paint the interior of the new building. It might give us a better sense of ownership, he said.

The high school in Kalagala is there because of Mawejje's vision. It was built with funds raised mostly by Fisher Branch townsfolk while Mawejje, now an archdeacon in the Diocese of Rupert's Land, served as Anglican priest of Fisher Branch during the 90s. What inspired him most to build the school was the way his own children flourished under western education where they learned how to think critically and do projects. He wanted the same for the children of Kalagala.
I knew of the school because of stories about what the people of Fisher Branch had done published in Interlake newspapers. My friendship with Mawejje grew after the first time I interviewed him about the school for a piece in the Rupert's Land News.

After Diane died, he invited me to come to Uganda with my tenor saxophone to teach a few young guys how to play. My daughters heard about it and expanded the project to the point of raising $20,000 to put up a new building at the school, as well as bringing tools and computers for the benefit of students and villagers in Kalagala. Each daughter had a role - Kirsten kept account of incoming funds, Lara designed the Uganda Project website and dealt with the computers, and Rebecca prepared lessons to teach students the rudiments of music.

Mawejje was right. It took the better part of a day to paint the entire interior of what my family members at the end of the day were calling "our" building. Some students helped by fetching paint for us and cleaning up later.

It was an awesome day. We finished the paint job with pride, leaving our handprints all over the stage area and the spirit of Diane throughout the building, which includes a backstage change room, an instrument storage room and sleeping quarters for a security guard.

During the week leading up to dedication day, I taught eight Kalagala high school boys how to play their first notes on the eight trumpets (we brought along a bunch of other instruments) we had packed into our baggage; I composed a song for them to play at the opening ceremony called Kalagala Dance Me Away and called them the “Fisher Branch Brass Band” (it still had no saxophone players).

The program included poignant skits that reflected life in Africa and lots of pure African music, a program refreshingly free of long speeches. The Right Reverend Jackson Matovu, Bishop of Central Buganda, unveiled the plaque, Mawejje said a prayer and officially opened the door to Diane's music hall, and then the eight trumpeters lifted their instruments and crisply tongued a fanfare - a bit out of tune - that heralded something really big a la Uganda. Never before had there been such a band in Buganda region. They lowered their trumpets as one with the same precision as that with which they had raised them.

Then the 400 people in attendance - students and their parents, school staff members who had prepared a feast for Kalagala villagers and dignitaries in attendance - sang Uganda's national anthem and the hymn of Buganda.
The most significant moment came late that starless black African night when the ninbe members of my family took our flashlights and cameras to the side of the new building to take pictures of Diane's plaque.

Standing silently, remembering.

I'm going back to finish the job - find a few saxophone players to add to the "Fisher Branch Brass Band" – that was plan, after all!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well it is hard to believe, but we are now back from Africa and from a trip that I can only describe as incredible and very life impacting. I have tried to capture the highlights below for your reading pleasure. It was a challenge to sum up three weeks into an email and I know I have written a lot so enjoy, read what you want and my apologies for going on and on.

Dad and I arrived in Kampala after a very long, but thankfully, uneventful trip. We were met by Rebecca and Wayne at the airport. We spent the night and next day in Kampala before heading out to the school. Kampala is a very bustling city with pollution and traffic that is unbelievable. You feel like a frogger character trying to cross the street as the traffic stops for no man or woman!

After our day in Kampala we made the two hour drive to the school riding in the back of a pickup truck. We stopped along the way at several stands to buy our vegetables for dinner for the week. I rode out with the potatoes falling out of the bag and rolling around and crashing into me the whole way. We quickly left the city and passed many, many shacks, stands and villages along the way. The number of people just hanging out on the side of the road watching us go by was unbelievable. At every stop we heard "hey Masoongoo" (which means "white tourist") as people called out to us to wave. The people are very friendly in this country. One guy on his bicycle held onto the back of the truck for quite some time just smiling. Needless to say we stuck out just a tad!

Cars, motorcycles and bikes abound. At one point the roads and traffic all converge into one. There were many vendors on the street selling anything you can imagine, the most popular item being mystery meat on a stick.

We finally drove into the school and it is so hard to put into words how I felt at that moment. To see my mom's amazing building was completely overwhelming. As the students greeted us and chased after the van with cheers of "Hi, Kirsten" I could only smile and wave as the tears overflowed. The greeting with my other sister, Lara and her family, was a blur of hugs and kisses and tears. I cannot describe how much I missed my mom right then and wanted her there with me. However, very quickly the tears turned into laughter. I was greeted and hugged again and again by everyone. I felt like a celebrity - as a matter of fact that is what the girls called me the rest of the week when I told them how much I appreciated their greetings.

The week living at the school was incredible. The students had just finished their exams when I arrived and they were ready to party. The days were mostly the same just hanging out and talking. One afternoon was spent teaching the teachers how to use Excel on the computer; another afternoon was spent doing laundry in buckets; yet another was spent helping to prepare the vegetables for dinner and cleaning the classrooms in preparation for parents' day. We did very much become engaged with the students and teachers in every aspect of their lives that week.

Our accommodation was a simple building, the interior about the size of my living room and dining room combined. They had partitioned the room off with plywood into four separate rooms, one for each family unit, plus a living room/dining room area. The "great room" had a plastic chair for each one of us. We sat there and ate our meals off our lap everyday. They had also put in a toilet just for us (you can guess the bathroom saying we had to live by). A luxury indeed when we saw what the students had to use compared to us. The shower was just a hose out from the wall and it was COLD!!!! But again, a luxury.

Each night was spent sitting out on our steps surrounded by students. One night they braided our hair and laughed hysterically at the results. Most nights were just requests of me to "narrate" my favorite movie to the girls. They then took turns narrating their favorite Nigerian movies to me. What stories of drama, love and intrigue!! One night Lara and Loc held an impromptu recording party. They recorded the students singing everything from traditional African folklore, to their school song, to rap and hip hop. It will make an incredible CD that will be so cool to listen to over and over again as it reminds us of our experiences at the school and the friends we have made with both the students and the teachers.

One of the most treasured memories will be the day we spent painting the interior of my mom's building. At 96 feet long by 26 feet wide you can imagine this took a bit of time. What a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment to do this. We had help from some of the students along the way but I am not sure if they actually helped or not in the end, but it sure was fun. Once we finished painting the interior white, we kicked everyone out but our family. We had asked them to buy some purple paint since my mom was such a vibrant person. We spent the next two hours painting beautiful flowers around the main door on the stage. We then each painted a heart for her on the stage - we wanted to leave our hearts there for our mom. Then we each left our purple handprint scattered throughout the building for the students so that they would not forget us. A very moving time.

Bryan and Justin arrived the day before the dedication ceremony. I picked them up at the airport (with Mawejje, our host, and the back of the truck
again) and we drove straight out to the school. The ride to the school was again so memorable as this time it was dark and so many places were lit by candlelight. Totally surreal as there were even more people out than during the day. Even though we did not get to the school until midnight everyone had waited up for us. Again, as the truck drove in we were greeted by yells and cheers and the Ugandan greeting of happiness which is kind of like an Indian whooping sound. Totally cool. Bryan and Justin did not quite know what to think but were quickly caught up in the exhileration of the moment and they were surrounded. I give them both so much credit as they stepped outside themselves completely and returned the greetings and hugs with as much enthusiam as they were receiving. Right away the next morning, Justin was out with the boys teaching them how to play with the many hackey-sacks he had brought with him and then playing soccer with them all. They were good and Justin had to push himself to keep up but he did a pretty good job holding his own.

The dedication ceremony itself was amazing. Each of the three "houses" at the school put on performances that were amazing - singing traditional songs, dancing to tell stories and even a play. The show in all was over three hours long. There were about 400 people in attendance and the building was literally overflowing with people. The level of energy was at an all time high as the students displayed their many talents. My dad had taught eight boys to play a couple of notes on the trumpet and was so proud of the song he composed. One of the teachers had written us a song in Luganda (the local language) and we had spent all week practicing. You all know me and my lack of musical talent - I take after my mom in that way - but I also inherited her spirit of adventure, so even though I did not sing except for the last line in the song. I played the massive hide-covered drum as the musical backup to the song. I did sing the last line of the song which translated to words to the effect of "Diane's love will always be with you as love lives here". We were cheered wildly at every two lines of the song. What a feeling of elation!!! My mom would have been so proud and I almost heard her cheering us on.

Then all 400 people trekked outside and the bronze plaque we had brought and mounted on the building was unveiled as the door to the building was officiallly opened. I was again moved to tears as I said to the crowd on behalf of the family that love will always live here (engraved on the plaque as well) in memory of my mom and "way balanyo" or thank you for having us. Then it was time to eat. I had bought a cow for the celebration and everyone had a wonderful feast of meat, potatoes, rice and pop. We wanted this to be a party that people will talk about for years to
come. And they will. My mom would have loved it.

With many tears the next morning it was finally time to leave the school and the students. They have made such an impact on my life and I will never forget them. We then flew from Entebbes, Uganda to Nairobi, Kenya to start the second half of our trip. Our safari started first thing the next morning. Again there were so many things that happened that I can only begin to describe what we experienced otherwise this email will never end. Some of the highlights of the safari were:

Our first stop was the Masai Mara game reserve. The roads to get to this park (and indeed all the others as well) are not really roads but rather huge bumps that you must travel on to get there. Many times it is smoother to travel on the shoulder than the road itself. The first of the "big five" animals we saw was a leopard which in of itself is very rare and we were told most people don't manage to find this magnificent creature. When we watched it stalk a warthog for over half an hour we knew our trip was going to be blessed. As a matter of fact our driver even said to me the very same thing that evening as we sat around the fire at the campsite enjoying the sounds of the jungle at night.

Bryan, Justin and I went on a balloon ride over the Masai Mara. At many times during this experience we were at tree-top level so we were incredibly close to watching the animals in their natural habitat and in complete silence. Among many other sights, we watched a lion stroll accross the plains, elephants guarding their young and gazelles "plonking" as they tried to show us that they were healthly and strong. The morning finished with a champagne breakfast right across the road from a very large herd of gazelles and impalas.

In Samburu there were elephants backing into our tent which was a little scary. We were not in them at the time but our guide told us to get back out of the way NOW as these animals can be very aggressive. Needless to say we did not want the flash of our camera to set them off but we did get some great shots.

The highlight of Samburu was the lion hunt and kill we watched. It started with watching the lions cross the path of our van, not even caring that we were there as they were so intent on something in the distance. There were around 12 lions in all and we followed them as they went stalking through the grass. We were close to the zebras and saw that these animals had become completely agitated as they rounded themselves up into a bunch instead of being spread out as they usually were. The cats had disappeared into the grass but we knew we were there. All of sudden we saw them run and disappear into a cloud of dust. We drove closer to the spot in time to see them kill the poor oryx (a large gazelle-like creature) that had wandered off alone. The oryx was still kicking and making noises when we arrived but this didn't last for long and the thing didn't have a chance. We watched the lions feast for the next hour or so on their dinner. When they were done there was nothing left but the head and the vultures were circling around waiting for that. The sights, sounds and smells as we watched from less than 50 feet away were overpowering. Nature truly at its finest.

In Amboseli there were every type of animals everywhere. Due to some major car troubles we had had along the way (spent one whole afternoon just sitting by the side of the highway in Africa) the tour company put us up at a lodge instead of the tents we were originally supposed to stay in. The lodge itself was an experience as it was so luxurious overlooking Mount Kilaminjaro and the elephants just outside the fence by the pool.

At every turn at every park we saw every animal you can imagine. Giraffes, zebras, gazelles, hippos, rhinocerus, crocs, elephants, buffalo, lions, leopards, cheetahs. At times it felt like we were in Disney World as we saw everthing we desired. As a matter of fact, our very last game drive was especially freaky since everytime we said an animal out loud we saw it within the next two minutes. Bryan said we hadn't seen an ostrich yet but needed to and right away two crossed the road right in front of us. I said I wanted to finish the game drive with at least one more cat and lo and behold we immediately saw a cheetah eating a gazelle. I know my mom was sitting next to God putting in our requests as we made them - I can just hear her saying "release the cat!". Even our driver at the end of the tour said that our trip was very special. He had never been with a group that had seen all we did all in the same ride. Thanks mom.

We finished off our trip with two nights at a wonderful hotel in Nairobi. We ventured out exploring a bit but for the most part enjoyed relaxing by the pool after being on the go and getting up early for nine days straight. We had our Christmas dinner our last night together at a wonderful seafood restaurant that put each of our names on the dessert plates.

Finally it was time for home. Nairobi, Dubai, London, Toronto and finally Winnipeg. We had to run from plane to plane and did miss one along the way but we made it in the end.

This truly has been the trip of a lifetime. The experiences in both Uganda and Kenya will be something that will be with me forever. I have looked at the pictures and although they are good they certainly don't do the trip justice but the memories I have will be strong in my heart forever. This was definitely a legacy that my mom has given me and although I miss her immensely (even more now than ever) I thank her from the bottom of my heart.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

November 28th, 2005: We could never have imagined how beautiful the day would be.

In the weeks prior to the dedication day the students of Kalagala were practicing hard for their upcoming performances. Each “house” had two different pieces to perform with a variety of themes to choose from. The categories were traditional dance, traditional song, theatrical production, creative song, creative dance or verse. Excitement was in the air. The students could be found singing, dancing, drumming or creating their exotic costumes at any given moment. The African rhythms, drumming, voices, and music could be heard whenever they found a chance to rehearse.

Hassan, one of the teachers who became a very dear friend, wrote a song for the family to perform at the ceremony in the local Lugandan language. We spent many hours practicing hard for the big day. The last lines of our song loosely translated means, "Diane's love surrounds us and lives here forever".

A few days before the ceremony we painted the inside walls of mom’s building with love. Everybody pitched in as each and every corner was brightened with a fresh coat of whitewash. We finished the job with a can of colourful purple paint which we used to design big beautiful flowers and hearts around the door at the front of the stage. Then, we each found our own spot and left a purple handprint.

The kitchen was as active as a beehive with the women and students bustling about busy with the preparations for the next day’s feast. Organizing a spread for 400 is no small affair! Pots full of meat, heaps of rice, plenty of cassava, and hundreds of pop bottles everywhere. Preparing the mountains of matoke, green cooking bananas, was a feat in itself. First they remove the banana peel with a sharp knife, as matoke peels don’t easily slip off like regular bananas. Next they wash them in cold water and then put them all into a massive pot of water allowing them to boil for about 10 minutes until the mixture turns yellow. Finally they use the banana leaves to make beautiful baskets, fill them with the matoke, and then wrap them like gifts to cook overnight. The next day they mash them up and to serve them hot. About 15-20 bananas serves four people so you can imagine how many were needed in order to feed our masses!

The next morning about 400 people came from near and far to celebrate and officially open the doors of the mom’s building. The students’ performances were incredible. I will never forget the beautiful African dances, stunning costumes, touching poems, hilarious plays and powerful African songs with voices so beautiful I can't start to describe it. Three of the girls read a tribute to my mom in the form of a beautiful poem and they captured her spirit perfectly. It was almost as if they knew her themselves.

When it was our turn to sing our song that Hassan wrote we could barely make it through the performance as the crowd would burst into ecstatic applause after each verse. They loved the song and were so happy that we made an effort to sing in their local language. Diane's love really did surround us and will live at kalagala forever.

My dad was in his glory with his tribe of trumpet players. They blasted a tune as mom’s wonderful plaque was unveiled on the new building that read, "In memory of Diane Kroeker. Dedicated November 28, 2005. Love lives here".

There was enough food for everyone to have heaping platefuls. The celebrations went on all day.

Wayne and I spent five weeks at the school getting to know the students, teachers and surrounding community. We learned so much and made so many beautiful friends. We will always treasure our time at Kalagala and will never forget the acceptance and love we experienced there. It was sad to leave. We all cried and had very heavy hearts. It felt like we were leaving family behind.

The Uganda project has given the students and teachers of Kalagala a new building, musical instruments, computers, motorcycle tools, a recording studio, soccer balls, music CDs, friendship, and love. They have given us back so much more. We have a new date to celebrate my mom with many, many beautiful memories and so much love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We are living in another world. The soil is a deep and rusty red which sticks to your skin when the warm breezes blow. There is always dust in the air that leaves a film over everything. No matter how hard you scrub your cloths you just can’t get anything clean. It is so bright and sunny during the day that your main objective is to find a tree for shade to rescue you from the heat but nights are the polar opposite where it is so dark that all you want is to find light. The electricity is intermittent and you are lucky if you get an hour of light because there is rarely enough power for the countryside.

At night time we hear bats, crickets, birds, and if we are lucky, the distant sound of singing from the girl’s dormitory. There is no pre-packaged entertainment so the kids are always looking for ways to pass the time which is often a song or a dance. We have learned to love the kids here at Kalagala.

We have heard story after story about a kids whose parents have died, often of AIDS, and how they have been helped by an aunt, a grandmother, a friend. In fact, it is so common that it is not shocking anymore. Some kids here have nothing, no money, often no family but they are the most giving and loving people that I have ever met. They have literally given us the shirt off their back so that we will remember them. They want to be remembered.

I have learned far more here than I ever expected. The kids laugh with their entire body, they make you feel like you are the only person that ever existed and they have a deep respect for themselves. In the face of some pretty crazy circumstances they know how to have fun. They walk around with their arms around each other, including the boys, and are always ready to chat, sing, dance or anything!

Time moves very slowly. A few days ago we went into Mpigi, a 15 minute walk from the school, to talk to the local electrician. We were going to meet him, with Hassan, one of the teachers, at the local restaurant to discuss when he could come to the school to hook up the ground wires that the last electrician failed to do and to fix the short circuit. On the way we stopped by to see Hassan’s grandmother and she wanted to give us some papaya and avocados from her trees in the back. We, of course, had to admire them and then she had to go and look for a bag to put them in. In the meantime her nephew came home and we chatted with him. We left awhile later to continue our journey into town.

We arrived at the restaurant and waited half an hour for the electrician who did not show up. Hassan thought it would be a good idea to walk up the road to his shop. We found out that he was actually in Kampala and he got a phone number where we could reach him. We crossed over to the local phone to call him but got distracted by a man selling grasshoppers.

The kids at the school had been telling us how tasty fried grasshoppers were so we wanted to bring a bag back for the students to share. Hassan helped us bargain with the old man, who had probably spent the entire morning catching them, and we bought the entire bag of over five hundred grasshoppers.

Finally we made it to the phone and Hassan called the electrician and he asked if we could pick up some supplies because he did not have any money and he would come to the school the next day to do the work.

On the way home we struggled to keep the grasshoppers in the bag but decided to stop off for a beer at the local bar before returning to the school. We tied the bag tight at the top so they could not escape before we got back to the school but the sun was so hot that the grasshoppers ended up suffocating. We got back to the school over 4 hours later with a bag of half dead grasshoppers and the news that the electrician would be there in the morning. Mission accomplished.

When we got back with the grasshoppers we gave them to the cook and told her that we wanted to help prepare them. There were hundreds of grasshoppers that needed the legs, antennae and wings plucked. Some were alive when we were doing this and they would wiggle between your fingers and try to escape. Luckily most of them were dead before we started preparing them which made them much easier to manage. We spent over 2 hours doing this and towards the end of the bag I was ready to just scoop the rest into the garbage but the kids found each and every one of them and sifted through the wings and discarded bits to make sure that we weren’t missing any. There is enough oil in their bellies that you can just throw them into a pan and they will fry in their own juices. When they were done the cook came and put a big bowl in front of us. I ate 2 of them and they tasted kind of like chips, you just had to close your eyes to eat them and forget about the fact that they were insects.

More than a few times I have gone to the corner store for some water which normally would take less than ten minutes but return over two hours later because getting distracted happens so easily. On the way out there might be a few students that want to quickly show you how they make bricks. After a half an hour we start off down the road again with a bit of new found knowledge. On the way we take a bit more time to greet the local villagers. When we finally arrive at the corner store Henri, the shopkeeper, chats about his family and asks about Canada and the weather. When we start off down the road again we realize that the water has been forgotten. When we finally order it from Henri he does not have change so it takes another 10 minutes for him to run over to the shop across the street. Finally the transaction is complete head home but on the way have to admire a few babies and goats. By the time you return the water is warm and the day is almost over but nonetheless you had a good time.

Education here is the only way out of poverty and even then it seems that the kids will likely have a hard time. It is really the only hope for some of these kids. The school is for different tribes (which is a big deal in Africa) different religions and different classes and the girls make up more than half the student body. The main objective is to teach the kids to respect for humanity which, as everyone knows, is much needed in Uganda. The uniforms that the kids wear are specifically so that class difference cannot show. Sometimes when the students can’t pay all their fees the teachers get paid less, wait for themselves to get their fees or go without pay for a month.

The teachers are amazing. They have learnt the computer stuff very quickly. Some of them had some experience from university so at least they knew some basics. There were a few that picked up on the technical stuff which made us feel as though they would continue to work after we left. They were very excited about the computers because it opens up another world.

Hassan, the literature teacher, and Rebecca, the bursar, live at the school and care for all the students. They joke, dance, sing and help to educate them long after school is over. Many evenings have been spent singing and dancing to some to some good African drumbeats.

Every parent wants their child in a boarding school because if they are expected to walk back and forth from school there are too many distractions and many of the girls get pregnant by the boda boda men (motorbike taxi drivers). I was told that the graduation rate for a girl walking to and from school is almost 0 percent. I don’t know how exact that is but the fact remains that the parents want their children in the boarding schools and they struggle to get them into good ones. The government schools are scary. This school is good and is the only chance for some of the kids.

I came with a lot of ideas about how to teach computers or violin but learning often happens at night when the lanterns are lit and there is nothing to do but sit around and chat, sing and dance. The kids would often congregate in one spot and start singing one of their Ugandan songs and everybody would join in together. The most powerful and moving thing is to hear thirty voices together singing an African song. The girls LOVED to show off their dance moves and Zoe joined right in with them. I have one crazy, booty shaking kid right now. Zoe left her shyness at home and has even shown them a few moves of her own.

We had a recording party one evening, after we had dealt with the electrical issues, and recorded some amazing music. One student in particular, Rogers, writes beautiful songs. He is one of the kids whose parents died and he takes care of himself and his brother digging ditches when he is not in school. Another kid, Shiddy, loves to rap and we got him acting silly singing one of the local songs here. Abdule sang one of the songs by the famous Ugandan artist Bobby Wine. He has a beautiful, soft voice which matched exactly his personality.

We also had a party for the opening of the building that we raised money for. There were over 400 hundred people that came. Some were parents and some were the people from the village. A big draw was that there was A LOT of food there for everyone. The kids put together a great show for everyone. There was a play about child labor, a traditional circumcision dance, a poem, and lots and lots of drumming, singing and dancing. We recorded the whole thing so at some point we will put together a CD.

It’s so laid back during a performance. Audience members throw money or candy on the stage. If people want to give something to a specific person they step right onstage in front of all the performers and hand it to them and then on the way off they often join right in with the performers.

Together with my family we placed a plaque on the building that said “in memory of Diane Kroeker” and it felt good to see my mother’s name. Seeing the hardship of some of the students made me feel less sorry for myself. Now, instead of imagining a drowning face when I think of my mother I will see all of the beautiful faces at Kalagala High School. I remember my mother.

I have developed a great deal of respect for many of the students and a few, in particular, will always stay in my heart. Rogers, Caro, Ashanti, Ham Dam, Moses, Crispin, Tabatha, Maureen, Stella, Sara, Olive, Barbara, Violet, Brandon, Madina are a few of the students that stuck out for me. They made me feel more than welcome and when we left I felt as though they would also carry memories of me with them. Everyone wants to be remembered.