Ronald. He's 10 years old. He was one of the Aphoyo"originals"- one of the first four we inducted into the scholarship program before we had a name, before we had sponsors, before we had any idea how we were going to pull this off. He's got a special place in my heart with because of that.
Ronald is his own man. I've been to Uganda on four separate occasions, when we (as white Americans) walk down the street, we're bound to hear the calls of a kiddo absolutely ecstatic about our existence. "Mzungu!!! Mono- bye!" They'll down right chase you. There was one little girl who lived at the end of our village's cul-de-sac. Whenever we would walk down the road, someone would send for this little one, and she would run towards us full tilt, often jumping to hug our legs or into our arms. Just thrilled that these white people were around. You feel rather like royalty, or celebrity, or a white person in a village in Northern Uganda.
Ronald is not like that. He's not a very trusting fellow, he'll watch you carefully and he shys from the camera.
And it doesn't matter if everyone else is trying to get him to follow us, it doesn't matter that his sisters are telling him to play with us. It doesn't matter that the student body is taking a break from class to gather round us, have their picture taken, reach out and touch our arms and then run back to their friends, thrilled and giggling. He watches.
I really respect that; a child who won't be swayed by what others believe. But I also see the root of that. Ronald has had men in and out of his life for as long as he's been alive. He's been protector of his little sisters and helper to Mom since he can remember. He's not one for childish games. he rarely acts like a child.
When Ronald started school back in August of 2013, he had never been around so many children acting like children. He was out of his element. Not only that, they were all light years ahead of him- understanding English (the language school is taught in), knowing when to sit down and when to stand up and how to use paper and pencil. The poor kid was so completely removed from his comfort zone that he would run home moments after Mom dropped him off at school, every day.
Christine, our mentor, started doing her home visits at Ronald's house. And as she put it, "The child was there! And so I asked Mommy, 'Why is the child not in school?' and she would say 'he will not stay there.'" And so Christine took him and sat with him through an entire day of school. And again. And again. Until he was comfortable enough to stay at school by himself. .. Almost. Every day at lunch, Ronald would run home. He could make it until then, but he was too afraid to stay the rest of the day on his own.
The school and Mom and Christine agreed, for his first trimester, it was best that Ronald stay for half days.
I tell you this story not so that someday, 20-year-old Ronald can be surfing the internet and find a mildly embarrassing story about his first experience in school, but for you to see a different side of working with children half a world away. So that you can see how valuable Christine is. So that you can know your support is going towards a little guy who had no hope of school, who was so far away from school that he had no idea what to do with a pencil and paper. But that he's still just as important.
Ronald repeated that trimester of school, we all thought it would be best for him.
He stays all day now, his marks are improving and his confidence is growing by the minute.
And he wants to be a doctor. He wants to wear the white coat.
And when Ethan-the white, male American who made Ronald so skittish-asked what his favorite subject was at school, Ronald beamed and exclaimed, "I can READ!"
Ronald, confident and smiling with his sisters (also Aphoyo students) outside his home.