Jinja: A Portrait of Paradise

The banana tree is not really a tree. It’s a majestic caricature we perceive as a fruit tree. The correct taxonomy would be to call it the banana herb because the pith of the banana herb is unlike the woody trunk of a tree; it is a combination of fibres that come together to strengthen the species.

I was surrounded by banana trees in Jinja. These 15 feet tall structures presented a strong visual for the beholder but the meaning they carried was far deeper than what meets the eye. While I could not fathom the tree, I did try understanding the community surrounding it- which was equally peculiar, if not more. My decision to undertake this documentary and live amongst the local community would turn out to be one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

The summer of 2023 was a summer of discovery. The more I learned about my subjects, the more I learned about myself. My time in Uganda symbolised a new chapter in my professional career. Coming straight from working as a journalist in the metropol of Washington D.C., these banana trees signaled a different type of challenge- one that would test my journalistic prowess in ways I had not imagined. 

My previous work had introduced me to people from different walks of life but none have taught me more than the children of Jinja. My project required full immersion into the field and the environment where my sources lived. Talking to teachers, parents, children, social workers, and community elders gave me insight into their lives but co-existing with them gave me discernment on my own. Their way of life was something that I had to experience to truly understand. I followed the same schedule as the children going to school, spent time with them at their homes with their families, and gained a holistic view of their everyday activities. I was not perceived as an “outsider” and my use of the local language, Luganda, greatly benefited my cultural integration. The friendships that I cultivated were organic and the trust of my sources is what really brought the documentary to life.

A place with limited means but unlimited faith is how I would describe Jinja. The air was filled with hope. A yearning for a better tomorrow, actualized in the prayers of today. When shooting the documentary on the children of Jinja, my aim was not to show these children as products of an unjust world or paint a distressing picture of the society we live in. It was to tell their story through their words and give an authentic view of the local education system.

Every child faced a unique set of challenges which were shadowed by the towering stature of human will. I heard first hand accounts ranging from child labour and domestic violence to the daily struggles for sustenance and access to education. Learning about the children’s lives made me realise how much I had in my life, and how little I was grateful for. But the paradox was introduced when reality dawned. These children, despite living with little and facing obvious barriers to a fulfilling childhood, were happier than the children who had everything in more developed parts of the world.

I saw footballs made of ribbons, foods of utter simplicity, houses of mere mud and leaves but smiles that would outshine the Milky Way. These children had hopes and dreams and were undeterred by the dangers that lurked outside of the walls of their school. They were mindful of their reality but didn’t allow themselves to be limited by it. 

Every character in my documentary had a struggle that would be considered traumatic for most; but for them it was the lives they lived and they wanted to live it to the fullest.

Now here I stand, more than a year apart from walking amongst the banana trees and I wonder: What would I do if I was a child in these schools? If I was a child that had his wings clipped from the beginning, knowing the limitations placed on me are because of the conditions I was born into? I know that I would not be able to do half of what these children are doing on a daily basis.

Our Work in Jinja

Children on the Edge have been supporting communities in Jinja since 2012. We currently work with six slum communities in the suburbs to create protective environments for their children; transforming them into safe spaces where children are protected from harm and are able to thrive. 

Six voluntary Child Protection Teams work with community members and families to keep children safe and small business loans are offered to ensure families can earn enough money to send their children to school. 

Two Early Childhood Development Centres in Loco and Wandago provide education and support for 150 of the youngest children from the most vulnerable families at a vital time in their development. Three Child Rights Clubs in Loco, Masese I and Wandago empower children to change their communities for the better.