Finding Izinga Primary School was an amazing adventure for me. I left Jim in the pick-up truck to guard it, as was our custom, then stepped into the jungle to follow a well used goatpath. Simple directions from the headmaster, that I had met in town, should put me at the school in short order.
Two hours later...after forging a raging river on a two log bridge; navigating the enormous leaves of an endless banana plantation; venturing by tidy mud huts with neatly swept yards; directed by numerous gaulking villagers whose suprise declared my fair skin to be quite a shock; then finally encountering a Tutsi woman with an imposing machete. "We'bale," I proudly announced, then slowly articulated, "Izinga Adventist School?" She confidently motioned with her machete to follow rattling something in Luganda that was lost to my ears. I followed dutifully for nearly thirty minutes, at a rapid pace to keep up, until we emerged thru a whole in the dense folage. In the little clearing stood this precious, primitive dwelling. The courtyard bubbled with noisy children but no adults in sight. Children danced about giggling at one another running in all directions delighted, maybe frightened, by my unannounced appearing.
I greeted them with my usual, "Are you a bit okay?" a standard Uganda greeting. They straighten up tall like wooden soldiers broadcasting with one voice, "We are alright, Sir!" That was the only English spoken to me in answer to every question I posed.
It would not be long before the headmaster came rushing up the me with an enormous grin on his face. His hands outstretched to shake my hands accompanied by a flood of apologies, mixed with greetings, flowing from his lips. The children scattered everywhere as an unknown speech poured from his lips addressing them. They assembled as you see in this photo. What a delightful, scruffy bunch of miniature Ugandans!
