Reflections...
...I've finished walking in her shoes.
Yet, as a wealthy Westerner, can I EVER really walk in her shoes? I had 3 days off over the last 7 days. On one of them, my ten thousand steps involved ambling southwards with Benjamin along the Withywindle in the morning, and northwards with Bens, Eowyn, Coco, Mateja and Maia in the afternoon. On another of my days off, I wandered through the forest to Seren and Jonathan's, and then walked with them at a leisurely pace. Yesterday, I walked along lovely trails and through Princes' Park to a tranquil Taize meditation on Jesus' death and resurrection. My line in the liturgy was 'Can we enter with Jesus into his pain? Can we enter with others into their pain? Can I embrace my own pain?'
I remember my first day in Kirema, Uganda, Mrs Sewagoma dancing along the path, smiling and talking with me and laughing. It all seemed so amazing, this new place, the lush, green tropical beauty. I tried to imagine what it must be like to be her, and realised that there's a sense in which I can't. As a Western woman, I have the privilege of power, of options, of choices, of international travel, and of leisurely days off. There's not a day when Mrs Sewagoma doesn't have to walk a long way down muddy trails to get water which is filled with small fierce creatures, microorganisms which could kill the orphan children she cares for, if she doesn't carefully boil the water for long enough. Even then, many children in Kirema died from diseases which came into their little bodies in the water.
I am sat at my office at work. On the wall are pictures of my beautiful children, nieces and nephews. I am thankful for my family's privilege. I wish we could share it with Mrs Sewagoma's family, with the many folk whose water gives life and yet brings death. The clear, clean water pouring forth so easily from our taps - if only I could transport it to them. And the money we have raised together, thanks to your generosity, is enough for a village to have a well dug, and maintained. Fresh, clean water will transform people's lives. Just one village. And yet, that is amazing, really, isn't it? Water for one village! Wow! Thank you for joining with me in this endeavour.
Yet, as a wealthy Westerner, can I EVER really walk in her shoes? I had 3 days off over the last 7 days. On one of them, my ten thousand steps involved ambling southwards with Benjamin along the Withywindle in the morning, and northwards with Bens, Eowyn, Coco, Mateja and Maia in the afternoon. On another of my days off, I wandered through the forest to Seren and Jonathan's, and then walked with them at a leisurely pace. Yesterday, I walked along lovely trails and through Princes' Park to a tranquil Taize meditation on Jesus' death and resurrection. My line in the liturgy was 'Can we enter with Jesus into his pain? Can we enter with others into their pain? Can I embrace my own pain?'
I remember my first day in Kirema, Uganda, Mrs Sewagoma dancing along the path, smiling and talking with me and laughing. It all seemed so amazing, this new place, the lush, green tropical beauty. I tried to imagine what it must be like to be her, and realised that there's a sense in which I can't. As a Western woman, I have the privilege of power, of options, of choices, of international travel, and of leisurely days off. There's not a day when Mrs Sewagoma doesn't have to walk a long way down muddy trails to get water which is filled with small fierce creatures, microorganisms which could kill the orphan children she cares for, if she doesn't carefully boil the water for long enough. Even then, many children in Kirema died from diseases which came into their little bodies in the water.
I am sat at my office at work. On the wall are pictures of my beautiful children, nieces and nephews. I am thankful for my family's privilege. I wish we could share it with Mrs Sewagoma's family, with the many folk whose water gives life and yet brings death. The clear, clean water pouring forth so easily from our taps - if only I could transport it to them. And the money we have raised together, thanks to your generosity, is enough for a village to have a well dug, and maintained. Fresh, clean water will transform people's lives. Just one village. And yet, that is amazing, really, isn't it? Water for one village! Wow! Thank you for joining with me in this endeavour.
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