Squatting on the concrete floor of the kitchen with a machete. That is my enduring image of him.

 

At his feet is a large jack fruit, the bumpy-skinned green bell-shaped fruit that hangs from trees in these parts of eastern Uganda, about the size of two rugby balls. The taste reminds me of rubbery sweet yogurt, not that I have ever had the misfortune of having rubbery sweet yogurt. Distinctive, certainly.

 

Jerome is the last man on earth you would ever expect to be holding a machete. In his company you feel so safe you could tuck yourself into his arms and drift off to sleep. When he welcomed me it took twice as long as I was used to. The “Mulembe” greeting repeated over and over, decorated with a beaming smile and a very slowly nodding head. All I could do was soak it up. It felt so good when he said “hello” to me. If only you could bottle his greeting and give it away with the morning milk delivery, our nation would be SO chilled out.

 

His wife, Esra, carries on the theme of peacefulness. Her gift is a beautiful toothy smile, and she has every right to smile. She has just had her fourth child. Faith is her name.

 

Jerome looks after the school compound and has recently constructed a pen for goats. His dedication to the goats is second only to his wife and four wonderful children. He also acts as night-time security guard but I really can’t see him scaring anyone or anything off.

 

Peter is the eldest child and wanders the yard, playing with a stick. His eyes are big and his head scalped. Less lice that way. Carol is next eldest and is shy, but likes to show off her red dress and her hair in tight bunches. Jeremiah is no.3 in line and toddles to and fro in the dry-red dusty yard, eyeing up his bigger brother and crying quite a lot. Too much. yet even his screaming is greeted with patience by the ever-sanguine Esra.

 

And Faith. Last but no way least. A happy chubby baby girl whose name is utterly prophetic for this peaceable family.

 

Who live in a two-roomed hut in the dusty school compound.

 

One small room to sleep in with mats on the concrete floor.

 

And one small room to sit in with mats on the concrete floor, plus some well-worn out chairs.

 

Their faith is enough to make them happy. And they’re happiness spills over, flowing out of their two-bedroom hut, across the school yard, through the gates, down the red dusty tracks and thousands of miles away into my life, now. Perhaps into yours too.

Blessed are those who live simply, for they will have toothy grins and a great dose of peace.

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