Feeding His Children

Twice a week, Serving His Children (SHC) feeds well-balanced meals to approximately one thousand children in Masese, Uganda. This is not an easy task. However, it is an important and a rewarding one.

Each weekend, we buy 200 pounds of beans and the same of rice. We cart them back to our house on the back of pikis (motorcycles). Then, the beans and rice must be sorted. Twigs, rocks, and bad beans are removed by the two women from Masese whom SHC employs as cooks. The sorting takes several hours.

The day of the feeding, we wake up at 4:30 am to carry several heavy armloads of firewood across the village. Our cooks meet us there and start the fires for cooking. We volunteers then stumble back to bed, the Islamic call to prayer echoing through the night. I am growing to appreciate these early morning adventures. There is something incredibly peaceful about being up before the rest of the world. The village is almost completely dark, although we can see lights dotting the distant shores of Lake Victoria. The cattle and goats are sound asleep. There are no cries of “Mzungu! How are you?!” following us everywhere we go (Mzungu is Luganda for ‘white’).

When we wake up again, we travel to the market in Jinja to buy 1,000 pieces of fruit. We give each child a banana, mango, passionfruit, or tangerine, depending on the day. Riding back to the village on a piki with a tub of 500 pieces of fruit is always an exciting adventure.

Then, it is time to feed the kids! Children begin lining up under the hot sun over an hour before we start. It is astonishing how many children can fit in a 3 foot portion of these lines. They crowd together so that I can scarcely understand how they are able to breathe. Still, the line extends far across the open area where we serve the food.

The children’s clothes are always dirty. The idea of throwing away a skirt because of one hole (or ten) is laughable. Many children appear to be wearing dress-up clothes, as they wear whatever they can find or are given. Shoes, mostly cheap plastic or rubber sandals, are worn until long past when they are falling off a child’s feet.

I love these children with all of my heart. They smile broadly and call my name when I pass, they run over to hold my hand or give me a hug, and they are always eager to play the Ugandan statue clapping game they taught me.

For two hours, children come through the line to receive their beans, rice, and fruit. They bring their own cups , bowls, or plastic bags to hold the food. After my little friend Esther eats, she sits by my side as I help to serve the other children.

By the end of the two hours, we are all exhausted, dehydrated, sunburned, and happy. God is so good.