“Did you read The Help?
Yes? Well, I have stories for you from Ugandan caregivers, you wouldn’t
believe your ears,” laughs Julia Musisi, whose open round face and wide eyes
radiate warmth. It’s an Indian summer day and it’s hot in my Marin living
room. Julia’s brown skin glistens with a
light layer of sweat.
We’ve just met but she feels so familiar. “When I was 25, I came to Los Angeles from
Kampala in 1995 and got a job working for an elderly woman who designed the NBC
peacock. You know that graphic?” I nod.
“This woman, she had all of these pink chairs in her
house. She told her daughter, ‘I don’t
know where Julia is going to sit. ‘ You see, she thought that the black of me
would rub off on the pink chairs.”
I laugh and say, “oh no.”
Julia says, “We got to be good friends.
I became family to her, but I had no idea what America was like.”
“ Very racist, then and now,” I apologize. “White people
suck”
“ Yes, and that Donald Trump,” Julia responds. “What do you think of Hilary? You know the Clinton Foundation has done so
much good in my country around AIDS.”
And we’re off, talking for another 3 hours.
Julia came over to interview for a job as a companion for my
87-year old mother. I got her name from a recommendation on Nextdoor, our
neighborhood social media site.
I describe my mom to Julia, explaining in detail who she was
and who she is today, as she suffers from dementia. Julia leans forward on the edge of the orange sofa,
listening carefully with kindness.
“She used to read all the time, play bridge, enjoy going to
the theater. She had her own business, a
pharmacy. She was smart, capable, in
charge. Extremely put together. Now it’s
hard to engage her. She doesn’t have
friends. She never was very social. My
dad was the people person. She has difficulty reading now and she resists doing
lots of things because she knows she can’t do them as well as she used to, if
at all. She’s lonely.”
“We will find things to do together, “ Julia says. “ I will take her out for walks, for coffee
or tea, shopping, to the movies.”
“She loves watching movies, still,” I say. “Doesn’t remember much when she leaves the
movie theater, but that’s ok.”
“It will be good for her to have me with her,” Julia
declares.
I agree. Julia got the job and we worked through the
specifics, but that’s not where our conversation ended. I asked Julia to tell me more about
Uganda.
“ I have an orphanage there, for 17 girls. They live in a home I own on five acres of
land. I couldn’t have children, so I do
this.”
Julia shares her success stories – two of her girls came to
California to attend college. “One is becoming an RN, so she can return to
Uganda and educate women to stop having so many children. Most have seven, eight, nine, or ten, like
it’s nothing. Nothing. That’s what
happens to young women. They keep having
the babies; they have no jobs and the poverty is so bad. Did you know that
Cervical cancer is the number one cause of death for women in Africa?“
Julia, whose parents could not afford to buy shoes and
clothes for their ten children, looks out our windows at Mount Tam and the Bay,
delighted with the view. “It is so
lovely,” she says.
Here we sit, in spectacular Southern Marin County, where the
population is stricken with affluenza, and we raise entitled children who as
Julia observed, “don’t even talk to their parents, and don’t know even how to
cook a meal. They can’t do anything for
themselves. Really!”
Here we sit, and this strong, smart, and big-hearted woman tells
me what she does with her $25 an hour wage –how her mission is to empower girls
to make better lives for themselves in her country. “I want to build a school on my land and
offer vocational training. I got 20
sewing machines donated, and the local women, they come to my house to learn to
sew. They can earn a wage, now.”
When Julia speaks of her work and of Uganda, she is luminous
and as bright as the afternoon sunlight that won’t quit streaming into the room. “You must come with me to Uganda and see,”
she says. She travels to Uganda several
times a year, and has worked with other NGOs and Doctors Without Borders to
provide trainings on how to screen for cervical cancer.
I ask her how she raises money for her projects. She joins
me on my sofa side, as I get my computer to have a look at her web site. She has founded an NGO called Voluntary
Hearts Community for Girl-child Concern. This reminds me of author Alexander McCall
Smith’s name for his Botswanan character, Precious Ramotswe’s business -- the
No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. Only a
lot more is at stake here.
Julie has thought about doing a crowd funding campaign, but she doesn’t
quite know how to do this.
“I can help you,” I volunteer, with an open heart. See the name works!
“I am a writer and a good marketer, and I understand how to
use words on the Internet. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for many years. And Julia, I, too, want to empower girls in
the world.”
“Women and girls in Africa, in Uganda have so much difficulty.
The poverty, oh people do not understand how poor people live in third world
countries,” Julia says. “If you do not want to see poverty, you cannot come to my
country.” And in the next breath, she
again, invites me to come to Uganda, “and see for yourself.”
Her organization is dedicated to “sowing the seeds of love and
care to the vulnerable young girls by improving their livelihood. “ The Voluntary
Hearts Community targets girls who are orphaned, abandoned, exploited, and
living with single or handicapped parents, or elderly caregivers. They have helped 280 girls and young women so
far.
She smiles, puts down her glass of water, then turns towards me,
arms extended, and gives me a big hug.
“This is the way we make change, by changing lives one at a
time. That is what you do, Julia. This
is how it happens. I am so happy that you walked through my door today. I can
help.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “I will help mother, and you will help the
girls.”
“Yes. This is good, we will help each other” I affirm. “This is very good.”
