I wish I could take you on the road to the chicken farm with me, the wind against our tanned faces on the backs of boda bodas cutting through the red dirt ribbons of roads. Ladies, I’d show you how to tuck your skirts in while you sit side saddle so your beautiful, billowing skirt doesn’t accidentally billow right into the back wheel and leave your backside wanting for modesty. Then we’d pass by the rock quarry, where women sledgehammer rocks into shards while carrying babies on their backs and not even breaking a sweat. Their strength would make you sit up a little taller, proud to be one of womankind with them. We’d ride past clusters of smiling children waving and calling out, “Munu, bye! Munu, bye! Munu, bye!” Maybe, just maybe as we ride, you, too, would fall in love with the village.
Today I took that ride to visit Lamuno, screaming Baby Patience, and the chicks that have, at long last, arrived at the chicken farm.
Lamuno was gracious as usual and my oldest kid, William, met us there. The solar lights Vigilante Kindness had donated to light the chicken house were charging in the sun.
Almost immediately, William and I got to work taking photos of the chicken house and the chicks themselves, who were fuzzy, cheeping, little fluffs.
Another video did survive, it’s a video of William thanking you for supporting the Chicken Farm Project. I tear up each time I watch it and when I’m somewhere with bandwidth that supports uploading videos, I’ll share it with you, too. Some of you who have been around Vigilante Kindness since Day 1 know William’s story, have heard me speak of William, about his time as a child soldier and about his miraculous escape. To see the kid, who at a young age often had to choose between his life or the life of another, now stand before me as a young, entrepreneurial chicken farmer makes me burst with pride. William took the lead on the chicken farm project, pricing all of the materials, having them delivered, hiring the construction workers, and doing a host of other tasks. He took his position as the older brother very seriously and didn’t squander a minute or a shilling. He knows the power of a second chance and understands in ways I’ll never truly know that the chicken farm is a chance at a better life for him, for his brothers, and for the widows and orphans of the community.
When our work at the chicken farm was finished, Lamuno presented me with a water jug and a millet sifting basket. Lamuno lives in poverty, identifies herself with no agenda of gaining pity, as a poor widow. When she handed me these gifts, I knew they were a sacrifice, that many hard earned shillings had been spent on these precious items. I accepted them with tears in my eyes and told her that I love her very much.
I wish I could take you to the chicken farm with me, that we could cut through the red dirt roads to hold fluffy, yellow chicks in our hands. I wish you could breathe in the green that is Uganda and wave at the children who run to the roads, smiling and giggling at our passing. Most of all I wish you could shake hands with William and listen to gentle Lamuno speak. Maybe, just maybe, you’d fall in love with the village, but this I know for sure, you’d fall in love with the people.