Friday.

It started out like a normal day.  I woke up, took tea, and got ready for my day. I was set to meet with my friend Courtney and her mom to show them around the local hospital that I volunteer at some days. We went into the children's burn ward, the area I help out in. As usual there were many children, maybe fifteen, some with minor burns but most with severe burns covering large amounts of their body. We went to the toy cabinet and pulled out all the favorites... blocks, cars, and balloons! The ones who could move came down on the mats and played with us and the others who were confined to their beds had fun playing balloon volleyball. After about an hour and a half we packed up and tried to sneak into labor and delivery but couldn't get past the very last road block...but we did hear a babies first cry! We split ways after our visit and I headed into town to get some much needed (wanted) American food. I walked down to catch a taxi past the many street kids that I had made friends with a few weeks ago but there was something different today. I walked past a young boy with a nasty wound on his bottom lip who was heavily crying as I approached my taxi. I looked to the taxi and back at the boy and my feet wouldn't move me into the taxi. I knelt down to the boy and gave him the remaining soda I had been carrying with me, which stopped his crying for a few minutes. I proceeded to ask the men waiting at the taxi stage what was going on with this little boy, who was clearly not one of the normal children seen in the area that had been hardened by life on the streets. The few men who were seated told me that the mother was there earlier but left the child hours ago to get water. She had left a plastic bag behind filled with the young boys clothes, pain medicine, and pictures of a man the boy identified as "daddy." My mind raced to figure out what needed to happen. Was I supposed to sit and wait for the mom to return, take him to the police, or even walk away from a situation that seem to be beyond my knowledge? All the men around me were convinced that this woman had come planned to abandon her child leaving traces so that maybe someone could find the father. After fourty-five minutes of waiting around I boarded a taxi with the boy on my lap and his only belongings headed to the police station. He (Patrick) was calm until we reached the police station and all hell broke loose. I can't even imagine what was going through his mind. With the little breath I had left after carrying the screaming five year old in my arms I explained to the police what had happened. They weren't even shocked. This was the fourth abandoned child that they were dealing with just that one day at that one station. They started the process of taking the report and began getting the phone numbers for organizations who would take the child. They told me that most of them were overbooked and probably wouldn't have room for this sick child. When I asked where he would go they joked, but in all seriousness, that he should go home with me. Fourty minutes into reporting I got a call on my phone, it was the mother who had returned to the place she had left her child four hours ago. She rushed to the police station to pick her child. In walked a young girl, twenty one years old, desperate and hopeless. She began to explain that she had gone to pick something in Namuwongo, a slum area of Kampala. In my ears I heard something much different. The slum areas are known for having a high rate of prostitution, which is a quick way for a desperate, jobless mothers like Robinah to get a few bucks. Before leaving the overworked police station with no support, counseling, or any resources I told Robinah not to get desperate and wrote my phone number on a piece of paper. I told her that we were friends now and she could call me for help. I also had her number saved in my phone. We parted ways... and what more was I to do but pray and check up on her the next day to plan a visit? Saturday comes and I give Robinah a call to see if she reached home and how her and Patrick were doing but her number was out of service. "Why God?", I thought to myself. I had this opportunity and she had thrown it away, my best friend even said she would sponsor the boy! It is now Sunday. I sat down at church this morning and my phone begins to ring, "Hello, my name is Robinah," are the beautiful words I hear on the other end of the line. This week I will go visit them. 


Please pray for Robinah to find the hope and strength that she needs to take care of precious little Patrick. I am going to look into finding a school for Patrick and a vocational school for Robinah where she can continue to learn hairdressing so please pray for provision in this area as well. 




"Your presence is all I need 
It's all I want, all I seek 
Without it, without it there's no meaning "


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5O5WUKmfBt8




With all my love,
Sarah Mae Bowman