Impossible Is Nothing... (by Tanya)

We leave Murchison Falls and the dry grasslands where we spent the day watching elephants, giraffes, and herds of water buffalo, thousands of colorful birds, baboons and their babies and crocodiles sunbathing along the Nile River.

 The sun is rising and the streets are already lined with children, dressed in different colored uniforms walking the miles to school with no shoes on.  Some carry bundles of dried long grass tied together in a bunch to use a broom for their chores at school, others carry yellow plastic jugs full of water balanced effortlessly on their heads.  The older brothers and sisters hold the hands of their younger siblings. They see our white truck approach and break out into fits of giggles, wide grins flashing bright white teeth against their dark little faces, and wave frantically, yelling out “Muzungo, Muzungo!”, and I can’t help but laugh every time.

Making red bricks

The womn are home with babies tied to their backs while they work all day long. The men are found burning wood to make charcoal for cooking, packing wet red mud into triangles that will dry into bricks, carry loads of millet and plantains they have gathered in the fields on their old rusty bikes . Those not working are seen gathered together, talking amongst themselves, playing a game of pool outside, or sleeping in patches of shade. The houses vary in style depending on family income; some are made with mud with dried palm leaves for roofs, others are made of wood or red bricks with a tin roof.  

A schoolyard with uprights off in the distance

We pass hundreds of little schools, some consist of one room lined with benches that are packed with kids of all ages, others are larger, and more established schools with soccer fields. The uprights are made of logs that give them a lopsided look. Every so often I see a group of children kicking a soccer ball made of layers upon layers of plastic bags that have been rolled into a ball, but mostly the fields are empty…


A ball made of plastic bags

We come across a small building.  It is a school that educates 130 children, ages 3 to 13. As our Muzungo truck pulls in, I see a young boy who spots us and starts to jump up and down with excitement. Within seconds we are surrounded by kids who are curious as to why a truck full of Muzungos pulled into their school this morning. I get out and look for their teacher. I find her in classroom, packed with kids.  Her name is Beatrice-she has been teaching here since 1972. I tell her that we are student midwives from Canada and she cups my hands in both of her hands and with a look of sincere gratitudesays,  "Thank you for the work you do". It is a phrase we have heard often here, which seems to catch me by surprise because the work we have done feels insignificant in comparison to the work the majority of Ugandan people do every day, just to survive…

I ask her if we can give her children a couple of soccer balls; one for the small children to share and a larger one for the older children. At once she breaks into a huge smile and starts shaking my hands again and again and says “Yes, yes, yes madame, we would be forever grateful, come, please will you sign the guest book?”


We are now surrounded by 130 anxious little faces, so when I a hold up the balls and ask “Would you like a football today?” they break into screams of laughter and shout out in sweet, excitable voices “Yes please!”

One little boy stretches his arms to the sky and thanks God.

The teacher throws the balls onto the grassy field and then joins them.  The children go wild; screaming and chasing the balls around the field, kicking it to each other and throwing the ball into the air, laughing and piling onto each other as they dive onto the ball to get at it first.

130 kids go crazy over balls!

 As we stand back and witness PURE JOY, I conclude that I have never in my life seen a group of children have so much fun!

Experiencing the pure joy in giving here in Uganda is a feeling I will never forget and I thank all of you who gave me the opportunity to have this experience.


As I prepare to leave Africa, I think about the women and their families I have been allowed to care for, the student nurses,  interns, doctors and midwives I have interacted with, and I have a sense that  “Impossible Is Nothing.”

Wei Be Lei Uganda
With much love, Tanya