by Anna O’Shea, A Sophomore at Loyola University of Maryland who visited The Makula Club for Children in 2019.  Photos are from experiences referenced in the story.

Pools, elevators, and pencils are everyday objects used in the American lifestyle, but they are also things that changed my entire view of the world and my life during a trip to Uganda. When my mom asked my brother and me to join her on a trip to Uganda, I was very excited.  When I got there, I was completely culture-shocked and overwhelmed by the poverty-stricken conditions of Kampala. I was sad and feeling sorry for myself because I felt like there was nothing I could do to help the kids I was meeting.

My mom, however, is very involved with the Makula Fund for Children and thrives on her visits to Uganda. She and my dad sponsor several kids in the Makula program. A few days into our trip, my mom invited 4 children she sponsors to our hotel to meet us. When they arrived, they looked around the hotel lobby in awe as if they were in Buckingham Palace. I had walked through the hotel lobby countless times and barely gave it a notice. To break the ice, we pulled out a soccer ball and played soccer in the grassy hotel courtyard. As we were playing, the kids spotted our hotel swimming pool.  Their eyes widened, and they turned to us, their eyes asking if they could swim without their mouths having to say it. How could we deny them their first swimming experience? There was one slight problem, they were wearing their school uniforms and did not have bathing suits.  We quickly devised a plan.

We embarked on a journey up to our hotel rooms to find clothes that they could wear in the pool. Without a thought, I hit the button for the elevator. We filed into the small elevator that barely had enough room for us all.  As the elevator began to move, the kids began to giggle. As the elevator rose, laughter filled the tightly packed elevator as the kids huddled together, grabbing onto one another. My brother and I looked at each other, confused as to why they were laughing. Then, amidst the laughter, we realized the children had never been on an elevator before. Something so simple, an elevator, something many of us use every day. Something so common to us, something so foreign to them. A simple 3-floor elevator ride made those kids feel like they were on a ride at Disney World.

Once we reached our rooms, we pieced together t-shirts and shorts that would suffice and raced to the pool. Since the children had never swum before, we swam in the shallow end with all 3 O’Sheas in the pool acting as lifeguards and human floats. The children jumped in and shouts of joy erupted. Their smiles, unbridled joy, and splashes radiated the pool deck. A crowd of people from the hotel began to spectate this miracle of wonder and inspiration of hope. It was as if the sun had stopped shining, the pure bliss of these children swimming would have been able to light the world. The act of swimming in a pool, was something so routine to my life, something I did every single day during summers as a kid, yet something these children had never done and may never do again. Those hours swimming in a hotel pool is a memory those kids will never forget. A simple pool, that created one of the best days of their lives, and which changed mine forever.

As our time in Uganda wound down, we organized donations for the Makula kids. I wanted to give them anything I could. On our walk to school one morning I asked a girl, “If I could give you anything in the world, what would you want?” Without hesitation, she responded, “A pencil.” I froze. Completely motionless. My eyes looked back at her blankly. A pencil. Anything in the world, and she asked me for a pencil. It took everything in my power for me to keep it together and not break down sobbing right there. This was the most powerful moment of my life. It truly, deeply changed my entire perspective. To think of all my bratty Christmas lists, only to realize all this girl wants is a pencil. The lesson here (although it took me a while to figure it out) is not to be sad and pity the children but to understand that there are simple ways for me and you to help and change their lives forever. It broke my heart that she did not have a pencil and that it was the only thing in the world she wanted. A pencil is such a simple object to you and me. But that is exactly the point, helping these kids can be so simple, it does not mean having to give millions of dollars. It means giving a pencil, something everyone can do. A simple pencil is all it takes to change a life. The time I spent and the relationships I built in Uganda were life-changing. A pool, an elevator, and a pencil are things I will never take for granted again.