Senior Goes on a Service Trip to Uganda

It’s 1:30 a.m.

Senior Emily Collins sits in the back of the 10 passenger white van adjacent to former East world geography teacher, David Muhammad, passing pastel salmon and yellow colored stucco buildings that line the wide roads of Coppola, Uganda.

The van decelerates as the tires crunch against the driveway. Collins glimpses out the black window. A crowd of jovial kids in school uniforms rush the van. “Emily! Emily! We are so glad you’re here! Emily!” The students of St. Mary Catherine Orphanage open the door and greet her amiably with hugs and handshakes. Suddenly, Collins’ apprehension recedes from her mind.

In October of her junior year, Collins sat with Muhammad listening to Kayley Herman, an attendee of the Uganda trip Collins went on, giving presentation on Change the Truth. Change the Truth sends volunteers to Uganda and other countries in an effort to teach.

Herman proceeded to ask the congregation if anyone would be interested in going to Uganda, which would take place during Collins’ senior year. Muhammad and Collins raised their hands. Collins had anticipated an opportunity like this since she had first heard of Change the Truth through Coalition her sophomore year.

“I went home and texted my mom, ‘Hey mom, I want to go to Africa’,” Collins said. “She thought I meant go to the zoo, but then she realized I meant the real Africa.”

Collins began saving money for the trip and cycling extra hours for her job working for Sealed with a Kiss, a camp care package company. Her mother, Karen Collins, pitched in money as well. However, Collins new it would mean something more personal to her if she raised the money herself.

By December of her senior year, Collins had raised enough money to go on the trip. She would leave home the 21st of the month and stay until the 28th, missing her first Christmas at home. Before she left, her mother gave her $500 for the trip as a Christmas gift, something that meant more to Collins than an I-Pad or clothes, which most of her peers had asked for.

***

“BAM! BAM! BAM!”

Collins’ eyes crack open as the repetitive noise continues through the stucco wall of the diminutive bedroom where she lay.

“BAM! BAM!”

She sits up and sees the bundle of grid patterned mosquito nets bunched together from the consistent noise over her feet at the end of the stiff bed. Collins stands up and slumps over to the window to find the source of the racket and sees a farm goat looking up at her through the paned view.

“That’s when I thought to myself ‘Okay, I’m in Africa,’” Collins said.

Collins and Muhammad stayed with, Melissa Mosher, near St. Mary Catherine, the Orphanage where the workshops would be held.

Each morning, breakfast would be served with freshly cooked eggs from the chicken coop in the backyard and crisp produce, grown in Melissa’s garden.

After breakfast, Collins would check the bathroom faucet to see if the water was accessible. If the water wasn’t running, Collins would grab a hefty bucket and tote water back from the well until the tub was full enough to bathe.
Collins only experienced running water 30 percent of the time, and most times the water was bitter cold.

After her first cold shower, Collins dressed for the day and proceeded to St. Mary Catherine. The classroom was a small, five-by-five space filled with mannequins for the children to work on as well as a narrow rectangular desk where two sewing machines were situated.

Slowly, girls began convening towards the room, eager to learn how to sew, one of those girls being 13-years-old, Claire Faith.

“Claire Faith; she was a pistol,” Collins said. “At first, she gave me some of the same attitude I give people at times.”
After class, Collins and Muhammad ate a lunch of plantains and nuts. The time following lunch was freedom for teachers and students to do what they chose. Collins took that time to become acquainted with the kids, teaching them the game Ninja.

Sitting in bed that night, Collins attempted to process that day. She wrote in a journal each night; recording her thoughts of the trip, the people she met, the food she ate.

***

On Christmas day, Collins had an especially difficult time writing a journal entry. Images of her family attending church, eating dinner together around the dining room table, driving to see the lights, and watching a movie flashed through her mind.

During Christmas night, Claire came into Collins’ room to spend time with her. She sat on her bed as they talked, flipping through Collins’ I-Phone. Claire started playing “Christmas Shoes” through Collins’ phone and they sat and listened.

“This is my favorite Christmas song,” Collins said.

Claire looked up imperturbably, “The last time I saw my mom was Christmas,” she said, as the song played on.

Through discussions like that one, Collins realized how children from the orphanage hid the anguish of what they had lost in their past–the pain was undetectable in their smiles.

“They’re happy now,” Collins said. “I kind of got into where you don’t think about your past, you don’t think about your future; you think ‘Right now, I’m jumping rope with a five-year-old.’”

Collins began developing closely-knit relationships with many of the kids.

“I didn’t look at them as these kids from Africa who needed my help,” Collins said. “They looked African, they spoke Ugandan, but they wee like any other American child who wanted to be a kid.”

For Collins, those strong relationships are what made leaving Uganda the hardest.
Stepping back into her home on the 29th, Collins’ felt empty. Warm hot showers, a mosquito free bedroom, electricity–these once everyday necessities were unimportant after he experience in Uganda.

The next day, Collins sifted through her cluttered closet. Disgusted with herself, she piled her unworn articles of clothing into four black trash bags and donated them to charity.

Part of Collins felt lost at first, not knowing how to deal with the abrupt change of pace and scenery. Friends would ask her “How was Uganda?” and Collins couldn’t surface the words to help them grasp what the trip was really like for her.
At home, her daily journal from the trip would sit on her desk; unopened, unread.
Throughout recording her experience in her journal, Collins would occasionally leave blanks where she later plans on filling in, but for now, Collins is slowly reflecting on the experience one day at a time.

***
Collins’ last day in Uganda was flooded with an overwhelming mix of emotions; glad to be returning home to her family, solemn to have to depart from a life she had quickly built for herself teaching at St. Mary Catherine Orphanage.
The kids held a ceremony for the teachers and volunteers outside. They performed traditional African dances, followed by a montage of photos taken from Collins camera during the trip projected for the whole group to see. As each photo flashed on the screen, the children would giggle at themselves on film, clapping joyfully when it ended. Collins recognized this as the last day she would see them.

For Collins’ class, her students put on a runway show, showcasing their best work. The girls would twist and twirl down the runway, showing off the skirts Collins had helped them craft.
Eventually, Collins and the other volunteers had to say goodbye, but Collins couldn’t find Claire.
“When I found her, I sat down and told her how much I wanted her to be successful in life and how much I loved her,” Collins said.

In her last minutes in Uganda, Collins walks out to the white van that would take the volunteers to the airport, Claire by her side. Sitting in the van, children reach for her hand, telling her not to leave, but Claire Faith stands there.
As the van pulls away, Claire reaches in the sliding door and grabs Collins’ bright orange flip-flops off of her feet. She runs off to the back of the orphanage and stands against the wall, dangling the flip-flops in her hand.
Collins looks back at St. Mary Catherine one last time. Claire looks down as she smirks, then holds up her hand, “I love you,” in sign language.

“That’s the most vivid image of her in my mind,” Collins said. “That’s all see when I think about Africa.”