he moving writings and illustrations in this booklet are from ex-street children and pupils of Mengo Muteesa II Memorial Primary School, PO Box 30708, Nakivubo, Kampala. The work has been gathered in by Charles Mukiibi, Head Master of the school.

Mengo Muteesa II School is in the metal working quarter of Kampala, round beside the National Football Stadium. The school is on swampy land, which leads to problems during the rainy season. On a 1997 trip to Uganda Scots writer Ewan McVicar visited the school as part of an arts exchange project, the Bird Exchange. Mr Mukiibi was at the time assistant Head Master. Subsequently several large boxes of school books, donated by Scottish schoolchildren, schools, and agencies, were sent to Mengo Muteesa and other Uganda schools. Since then Mr Mukiibi and Ewan have worked with others to develop new ways of linking communities in Uganda and Scotland through the arts. Schools in Perm in the Russian Urals are now also involved in what has become a three-way linkup.

In 2005 the focus widened from visual arts exchanges to include writing on the themes of Where We Live, Our Worries, Our Hopes. Mr Gailey Turyahebwa of Kampala is co-ordinating the wider Uganda / Scotland Writing Project, and Eugene Sharavyev co-ordinates the Russian project.

At Mengo Muteesa School Charles Mukiibi in 2004 initiated an orphanage project to help the many street kids of Kampala. He now organises activities, and provides accommodation and food. Fundraising in Scotland has so far helped pay for orphanage running costs, football uniforms, school fees for orphans, and capital to start small businesses for rural women. The funds are directly administered by Charles Mukiibi and Gailey Turyahebwa.

My name is is Namukasa Jane, I am in Primary five. I go to Mengo Muteesa II Memorial Primary School. My father died when I started P.4. Now my problem is, I have a close family relative who is persuading me to get married at this stage, but at school I have been taught some good values to protect me from HIV. I would like to share them with whoever is interested.

HUMANITY Knowing and accepting who you are and what you can and cannot do. This helps you to be satisfied with what you have without feeling jealous of others.

LOVE The joy of being alive and extending care and respect for other people's well being.

HOSPITALITY Being friendly and making others feel at home. (Remember, Kindness does not mean giving your body to people who want to misuse it).

PATIENCE Learning to live with yourself and others without conflict even when YOU do not agree with them.

TOLERANCE Accepting the differences between people, cultures, religions and political groups. Tolerance grows when you listen and communicate with others.

SELF-CONTROL Disciplining yourself not to act according to every desire or attraction you feel, not losing your temper when you are upset.

CHASTITY Respecting your body so much that you delay sex until you are an adult ready to marry. After marriage, you remain faithful to your partner all your life.

PURITY Having thoughts which lead to only good actions or intentions.

FAITHFULNESS Being trustworthy and sincere; doing what you say you will do and supporting your good friends and family.

HONESTY Telling the truth, being open, being true to your self and others.

JUSTICE Being fair, responsible for your actions and respecting other people's rights.

PEACE LOVING Living in harmony with your self and others.

COMPASSION Feeling sympathy for others when they are having a difficult time, caring and helping them to overcome their problems. I will live by the good values.

UGANDA'S FUTURE

Uganda's main referral hospital is Mulago. We young stars are told that in the 1960's before the political turmoil, Mulago Hospital had enough equipment and enough doctors. Sick people would receive free medical treatment. Nowadays the hospital is just a trash. Sick people go to the hospital just to suffer, there is not enough equipment, not enough medicine, not enough doctors and nurses.
I witnessed all this recently when I lost my elder sister to malaria. When we went to the hospital there was nobody to assist us, doctors and nurses were not caring. When we asked them for medical assistance, the only response was there is no medicine. My sister lay down on the floor in agony until she died.

When, why on earth should we suffer in our mother country to this extent? Our lovely President should do something to our hospitals for the future.
MY name is JOHN OLAKU 14 years. I am now completing my Primary Level

I was born in Central Region of Uganda in Masaka District. In my region, the land is mainly for farming. The land is fertile and there is plenty of rainfall. We now have good murram roads, so farmers can easily transport their produce to the market. Most farmers grow food crops for the family as well as cash crops.
There are some large towns in Central Region. One of these is Kampala. It is the Capital City of Uganda. My family migrated to Kampala three years ago. There are hotels in Kampala. The Parliament buildings are also here. Our International Airport is at Entebbe.
Transport in Kampala is easy. There are many commuter taxi cabs in the city centre. Of recent a new mode of transport was introduced in our towns. It is motor cycle transport commonly referred to as 'boda boda' because it is used to work along borders. Many people in town used motor cycle transport because it doesn't suffer the problem of traffic jams. You pay some money and you're carried on the carrier of the motor cycle.
The problem with motor cycle is accidents. Many people have had their legs amputated, others have died, others are in hospitals in agony due to the motor cycle accidents.
My name is Jane.

THEFT IN KAMPALA BANKS

My name is Jane Nalweiso, I am twelve years old. My mother is forty five years old. She pays for my school fees. I am in class six. One day on 11th January, 2003, my mother went to pay my school fees in the Bank. It is called Stanbic Bank. While in the Bank some fellows came into the bank, pretended they had met friends and they started advising that at Stanbic Kitgum House Branch the queue was not so long. They withdraw from the queue and pretended to leave. Meanwhile they had colleagues who check to see whether there was anyone who had fallen for their line of a shorter queue somewhere, My mum decided to go and bank the fees there. Unknown to mum, they followed her, fell upon her and wrestled the bag from her and all the money was gone.
1 missed school for the whole year. I pray that we have enough police to curb such behaviour. When mother reported the matter to the police she found there many thieves who had been arrested.

KAMPALA CITY

My name is Jackson Mutyaba. I live in the city centre. 1 love it but it is full of problems. We people living in the city wouldn't mind who our Kampala boss is if the services were provided e.g good roads, electricity, water etc.
The elderly usually wear our traditional wear. Mothers usually wear a long dress called Gomesi, while fathers wear a tunic called Kanzu in our local language. They look very decent.

My name is Jane Atto. I live in one of the suburbs of Kampala City. It is a beautiful city. We wouldn't mind if the dilemma of services in the city can be solved by giving the city to foreigners to administrate it. We want some one who can run our city to prosperity. We want to have an uninterrupted light and water supply. We want roads without potholes etc. We want a capital city akin to other good cities of the world.

LIFE IN WESTERN UGANDA

My name is MULIWEZI, I am 13 years old. I come from Mbarara. My father is a pastoralist. He does not own land. The whole community owns the land together. During the rainy season my father takes his cattle to the hills. In the dry season he moves his cattle into the village. In the villages there is water and grass, even in the dry season.
He has 30 head of cattle. He milks his cattle in the morning. He walks a long way to graze the cattle. My father's wife and daughters stay at home to clean the kraal. They make ghee from milk and cook food for the family.
I stay in Kampala with my Uncle. I go to Mengo Muteesa II Memorial Primary School. My headteacher is Mukiibi Charles. I go to see my parents in the village during the school holidays.

My name is Mary Nalule, I am 11 years old, I live in Kampala City at a place called Mengo, I am an Orphan. All my parents died of AIDS. I live in an orphanage. I am very disturbed by smoking in our City, smokers are ruining our lives with tobacco smoke. At school we have been taught that cigarettes and tobacco contain a very dangerous drug called Nicotine and poison called tar. When you smoke a lot, this tar builds up as a lining in the lungs and can cause disease.
We children are being made to become passive smokers by inhaling smoke from their cigarettes, thus exposing us to danger. Until recently smoking has been done by men but now women too are so much in this bad habit. I have been raised with a mental picture of decency in women. I see them as mothers, mature and dignified figures who shouldn't be involved in such practices.
I, on behalf of many youngsters, urge the Ugandan Parliament to pass a law banning cigarette smoking in all public places. This will enable us to enjoy life in our capital city free of smoke from smokers. What a great City Kampala shall be without smoke from cigarettes!

STREET CHILDREN ON KAMPALA STREETS

My name is MUKIIBI TONY. I live at Ndeba, a suburb of Kampala. I live with my Aunt. Both my parents died of AIDS, they both died when I was at the age of 9 years. I had nobody to look after me. I turned into a street kid living on the streets.
Life on the street is extremely hard. There is no food to eat, no water to drink, no clothes to wear. We could always go to dustbins for food. Garbage was our food. I had turned into a pickpocket. We used to take marijuana to forget our problems. I suffered many injuries as a result of our unwanted behaviours.
Luckily enough one day my Aunt came across me on the street, she broke into tears. She convinced me and took me off the street to her small room she is renting in town. She took me to school, negotiated with the headteacher of the school so that she could pay halfway the normal school fees because that's what she could afford to pay. The headteacher accepted and I am now enjoying the school although I am lacking many school requirements, like exercise books, pens, pencils, uniform etc.
At least I am at school, maybe I might have a bright future. Unfortunately, my Aunt too seems to be infected with the deadly virus HIV, she too might not live long enough from now.
I don't want to go back to the streets of Kampala, life is hard there. There are many street kids in the city centre, many of whom are turning into criminals. Fortunately my headteacher is trying to put up an orphanage centre, we are praying for him.

OUR TRANSPORT
Today it's quite easy to move from one part of Uganda to another. Long ago it was difficult to travel because there were no roads, no railway and no aeroplanes. My grandfather Mr. Mwebe now 84 years old always tells us how hard it was during those days to travel from one place to another. He says they used to walk long distances with luggage on their head or backs. They used special coaches to carry chiefs and kings and brides. They used carts to carry sick people. People used to travel on water using canoes.
When Europeans came, they brought with them new ideas about transport. They built roads and railways to carry goods and people. In the seventies, my parents migrated to Kampala the Capital City. Transport is easy. I have taken a picture of traffic in the city centre. I am 14 years old, I am in primary six. I go to Mengo Muteesa Primary School.

My name is Jane Manulasa. I am thirteen years old. My family has migrated to the Capital City Kampala due to the biting poverty in the countryside, though life there used to be more interesting than here in town. We have a small house, a few chickens and a few banana plantations in the village. The schools here in Kampala have better facilities than in the village. We long for better life.

WAR IN NORTH UGANDA

My name is Gibolo Moses, I am 15 years old. I go to Mengo Muteesa II Memorial Primary School. I am now in P7. I come from North Uganda. All my parents died. They were killed by the rebels of the Lord's Resistance Army headed by Joseph Kony. The war has been going now for 19 years. I have lived in a war zone since I was born. It has been very hard life. We have been living in camps in Gulu. Raping women, killing, defiling young girls, dying as a result of AIDs are the order of the day in the camps. People in the camps depend on handouts from International Aid Organisations. Life is extremely hard. In spite of protection from Government, some times the rebels manage to infiltrate the camps and burn them to ashes.
One Sunday morning I stealthily boarded a lorry which was travelling to Kampala. Luckily enough I reached Kampala safely. I had never been to Kampala, everything looked strange, I didn't know the language, I didn't have money, I was hungry. I walked around the city for some hours. Luckily enough I came across some very dirty boys and girls around a dustbin. I went to join them, they were all speaking a strange language 'Luganda', except one who was speaking my language. I am Acholi by tribe. He, too, had escaped from the war zone. I too turned into a street kid, life was extremely hard.
One Tuesday morning, some kind people came to us, they found us around a dustbin. They tried to talk to us, they gave us food and water, they gave us clothes. They tried to convince us to leave the street, we refused. They came again the next day. They again brought us food and tried to convince us to leave the street. This time some of us agreed. They took us to an orphanage home by the name of 'Kids in Need'.
They started looking after us well. They gave us clothes, good beddings. Most importantly they took us to school. This year I am completing my primary level. I will sit for my P.L.E in November this year 2005.
MAY THE LORD BLESS "KIDS IN NEED".

My name is Jack. I am just nine years. I stay with my stepmother. My biological mother died of AIDs a few months ago. My step mother mistreats me a lot whenever things go wrong. Sometimes she beats me, burns me, ties me. I wish I was not born.