Loyce is a 4 year old Ugandan living in a slum of Kampala. Her town is filled with either small businesses, cramped one room houses, or bars. The smell throughout the town is a combination of burning garbage, sewage, and the smell of rotten fermenting fruit that will eventually be used for beverage consumption in the two or three solid blocks worth of bars. Being there any time after the sun goes down, which was most of the time I spent there, is a guaranteed three or four mosquito bites due to the abundant amounts of stagnant sewer water breeding grounds. Because I've only been there at night, most of the men of the town have been or are still drinking.  This drinking, isn't at all what could be considered "recreational drinking", its "get drunk to deal with life drinking". This leads to more people stumbling through the narrow busy streets than I could count, handfuls of people incompasitated on the side of the road, and even some completely blacked out face down in the middle of the road. It is definitely a place no one would live in if they had a choice. 

I was leaving the slum after visiting for the first time, last wednesday, with Pastor Abbe after we had gone to one of the "alters" or meeting places then to the actual church location and met some people from his congregation. Usually there would be a number of kids that would hold my hands leading me from place to place, so as we were leaving there was a usual crowd escorting myself and Pastor Abbe on our way out of the town. None of the children's face really stood out to me except one of the smallest kids. Pastor Abbe was holding her hand and talking to her most of the time, but every once in awhile she would turn back to look at me. As we began getting close to the end of the town more and more kids began to branch off in their separate ways except one, the little girl that was holding Pastor Abbe's hand. 

Eventually it was just me, Pastor Abbe, and the little girl. Pastor Abbe stopped at one point and told me that the little girl would like to meet me, which is basically the children's way of getting close enough to touch my hand or feel my skin, so I crouched down to shake her hand. She timidly shuffled her feet from next to Pastor Abbe over to me to give the customary kneeling handshake as a sign of respect and greeting. I asked her one of the few, if not only, english phrase she probably knows, "How are you?". She responded with hardly a whisper, "I'm fine". With that she placed her hand in mine and we continued on our way. 

It was probably five minutes of walking and holding this girl's hand until I decided to give her the carton of juice that I was given much earlier in the day by Pastor Abbe. I had been carrying it the whole day and honestly I didn't really want it so I figured I could kill two bird with one stone by giving her something I didn't want to carry anymore and something that she may only get to have on special occasions. When it finally came time to part ways with the girl, I asked Pastor Abbe to make sure it was okay to give her the juice and he said it was fine. I crouched down again to give this little girl the juice. She deserved it if anything, she had followed us around all afternoon and had eventually followed us well out of her way just to greet me and hold my hand for ten minutes. When Pastor Abbe translated for me assuring her that it was her juice to have, she got one of the biggest smiles on her face I have ever seen, almost as if she never had been given anything in her life. Even though we already shook hands, Pastor officially introduced us this time, "Chris, this is Loyce." 

As touching as it may seem at this point, I thought absolutely nothing of it, literally, nothing. I had forgotten all about it until yesterday. 

It had already been a long day. I drove with Abby to Entebbe to visit her daughter at her boarding school and then we were on our way back in town so that I could be dropped off with Pastor Abbe. I had a headache, I was tired, I just wanted to go home and sleep, but I had promised to come back not only to Pastor Abbe, but to the people of his church. When Pastor and I finally connected, we made our way through the slums. I figured we were headed directly to the church, not that I would be able to tell the difference amongst the endless maze-like streets and corridors, but instead we stopped at a small nondescript house. I was greeted by the mother, the eldest son, the teenage daughter, and before I knew what happened a little girl came bolting out the door and gave my leg a huge hug, it was Loyce.

I ducked into the house to take a seat with Loyce's family as Pastor Abbe translated what the mother was saying, "You are most welcome. We are so happy to have you in our house. God bless you.". Pastor Abbe told me that Loyce had told him a couple days earlier, "The juice was so sweet. I want to have the white man to my house to thank him." So there I was sitting in Loyce's house, only four days later, being thanked for a simple gift of juice as if I had saved someone's life. 

Pastor Abbe asked that I speak to the family, to tell them about myself and offer any words of encouragement, and he would translate for me. So I gave my simple speech that I have been giving in any situation such as this, "My name is Chris, I live with my mother and father, my fifteen year old brother, and my thirteen and two year old sisters, and I am in school to eventually become a doctor. I've come all the way from California to Uganda to share God's love with it's people." This is usually interrupted at this point with clapping, shouting, yelling, etc. then I continue, "But what I've found is that God's love is being given to me through the people of Uganda. So, thank you for all that you have done and are doing. God bless you." This was followed again by the clapping, shouting, and yelling. We prayed together then made our way outside so that I could take a picture for the family to see themselves. (Something that they hardly ever get to do) After saying our goodbye's Pastor Abbe and I began making our way to his church area, but before I took my first step away from the house, Loyce's little hand grabbed my hand and looked up at me with a look that said, "I'm coming with you". 

It was at this point that my heart melted for this little girl. Loyce probably never knew her father, most other adult males are out drinking every night, and while her mother loves her very much, she would have to be out selling roasted corn all day just to put food in her children's mouths. It is very possible that Loyce may never go to school, she could be destined to follow in her mother's footsteps to sell corn for the rest of her life. Not to mention the various daily health needs or risks, malaria kills hundreds of thousands of children every year. But all that she wanted at that moment was just to hold my hand. It was all I could from breaking down right then and there for that child, for little Loyce. 

For the rest of the night she didn't leave my side. Not that she had to try hard to stay there, I probably wouldn't have let her leave my side anyway. When another kid tried taking my hand from her, she almost socked him in the face. When we got to the church, she was still right at my side and got to sit up with me in the chairs in front of the rest of the church, something that all the other children wanted to do and practically fought for. During the service she kept looking up at me just to see me smile back at her. As we left the church little Loyce still remained at my side even with the other thirty kids all swarming around me. 

As we approached the outskirts of the town, all of the other kids had gone their separate ways, of course with the exception of Loyce. We stopped at Loyce's mothers corn stand to say goodbye once again. I asked Pastor Abbe to tell them I wished to come back again to visit them, and they were very happy to hear that, especially Loyce. After a big hug, I had to walk away without her. I kinda felt like I was forgetting something, even though I knew exactly what it was. 

As I recap and think about all that has happened, I'm not exactly sure how to respond to it, short of sneaking her back to the US in my carry-on. If there has ever been a time that I felt persuaded or led to sponsor a child, this would be it. Part of me says I shouldn't for financial reasons, part of me says it's really not that much money a month. I don't even know if she could be sponsored for whatever reasons. So what I'll do from here is simply pray and any additional prayer is appreciated. 

God bless Loyce