Photos courtesy of Compassion International Michele Pettenati of Wellsville, N.Y., a Compassion International sponsor, shows children a digital photo at a Compassion project in Uganda. Click photo for larger image.
Jim Heinrich and Willy Ssegaluma pose at Jinja Nile Resort near the source of the Nile River. Click photo for larger image.
Children at Compassion International project in Uganda entertain their visiting Americans sponsors. Click photo for larger image.

KAMPALA, Uganda -- Willy Ssegaluma lives with his parents and six brothers and sisters in a four-room hut in Lwabijogo Village just north of the equator in Uganda. The hut, as he described it to me, is of red bricks fused with a mixture of sand and dung. It has a thatch roof and a dirt floor and no electricity.

The family cooks outdoors on a wood fire, and there's a separate latrine. They get water from a community well. They raise a chicken and two piglets. Willy once wrote to me that he had a pet "he-goat," but the family had to sell it to make ends meet.

Willy is 17. He has short black hair and a beaming smile. He's about 5 feet, 5 inches, and he's all muscle and no fat.

He's bright. He ranks third in his class of 103 in a government school. Although his native tongue is Lugandan, he also speaks excellent English, the official language of Uganda. He writes fluently, too.

I should know. I've been receiving his letters for 10 years. The first six or seven years he wrote to me through a translator, but since then he's been writing to me himself.

By contributing $32 a month, I have sponsored Willy through Compassion International, a Christian-based relief agency, since 1997. Last month I had the opportunity to spend the day with him. I got to see the payoff on the investment.

"Dear Ndugu"

I have supported children such as Willy for perhaps 30 years. For an expense of about $1 a day, it's seemed like a worthwhile use of my money.

When I saw the movie "About Schmidt" three years ago, I identified with Jack Nicholson as he wrote "Dear Ndugu" to the boy he sponsored in Tanzania, and then confided to the child his frustrations in life.

I wrote to Willy about things I imagined he might enjoy -- my family or the precocious 9-year-old boy next-door or snow or incidents I found funny. I'd enclose postcards of Pittsburgh and places I'd vacationed, and an occasional bookmark or cartoon. On the whole, though, my letters to Willy were more a responsibility than a pleasure.

In the past year and a half, some of Willy's letters seemed to allude to a dark underside. In December 2004, he expressed an almost paranoid fear that I might not continue to be his sponsor. When I reassured him, he wrote last March, "I was so excited when I read the letter and I found a statement that said that you will always be my sponsor! That's a great promise!"

Two months later, a letter read: "Unfortunately [with the special $25 Christmas present I had sent] I wasn't able to get a bike because [I had to pay] registration fees for the Uganda Certificate of Education, which was 60,000 Ugandan shillings [about $35] and it needed to be raised before 20th April but still I failed to raise the amount in time. Therefore I had to be fined 50 percent and I am working hard to get that money in time because the deadline is 23rd June."

The children put on a show for their sponsors at a Compassion International project in Uganda. Click photo for larger image.
A girl shows off the sticker that she received from a visiting Compassion International sponsor. Click photo for larger image.
Having their photo taken is a novelty for children at a Compassion project in Uganda. Click photo for larger image.

Then, last July, he wrote to thank me for another special gift: "I will use it to pay for a debt. I borrowed some money from a friend because I wanted to pay the registration fee for my Uganda Certificate of Education ... and now I am feeling free."

Confused, I joked to several people that I was supporting a typical teenager -- always broke!

In August, I learned that Compassion International was planning a tour to Uganda in February so that sponsors could visit their children and witness the work of Compassion.

I realized that I'd probably never have the opportunity again, and I instinctively signed up. Many immunizations later, I was ready to leave.

No meltdowns allowed

Before I left home, I swore aloud that no matter what happened, I was going to have a great trip. Forty-four of us -- all but seven of whom were women -- from all over the United States had signed up. Literally during the Super Bowl, I was on a British Airways flight from London to Entebbe, Uganda, wearing a Steelers gold T-shirt.

This was my third trip to eastern Africa; I had previously visited Kenya, Zimbabwe and Zambia. On trip No. 2, British Airways had lost my luggage, and I wore mostly the clothes on my back for more than a week.

When we landed in Entebbe and my suitcase failed to emerge from the moving carousel in the baggage claim area, I battled the urge to cry, and I renewed a vow not to complain. I had packed an extra T-shirt, pair of socks and pair of underwear in my carry-on bag -- but I thought about all the presents I had bought for my child, with whom I'd be meeting two days later.

I wasn't going to be able to bribe him into liking me.

An emotional beginning

On the big day, the sun shone splendidly, and at 8:45 a.m. a bus brought in our 50 or more sponsored children plus Compassion International staff to the Speke Resort in Kampala, where we were staying. (Some members of our group sponsored more than one child.) In some cases, the children and staff had traveled by bus for more than a day, from all parts of Uganda.

Our group leader, Phoebe Rogers, had warned us that the children's personalities might run the gamut from shy, quiet and fearful to bubbly and euphoric.

"In other words," she said, "they are only human, like us." She added that no matter how poor the children's families were, we could expect our kids to arrive in the fanciest clothing they could find -- because this was a special day. Out of nearly 40,000 children in Compassion International projects in Uganda, these were the 50 special ones whose sponsors were visiting them.

When I was given the go-ahead to look for my child, I combed the perimeter of the large mobbed area, shouting, "Is Willy here?" In the most recent photo I had of him, unfortunately, he was 9 years old. I wasn't sure what I was looking for.

Then he heard me and came forward.

As Willy shook my hand and looked me in the eye, he was giggling and crying in a way that I had never seen before. As he told me later, he was overwhelmed with happiness.

Has anyone else ever wept with happiness to see me?

Willy also was relieved. Just as I had an out-of-date photo of Willy, he had out-of-date photos of me, showing me with a beard that I had shaved off in May 2004. I later learned that a seriously stressed-out Willy was panic-stricken that I might not have shown up.

When I realized how anxious Willy was, I hugged him. He was choking back sobs.

Like everyone else in the group, I noticed an amusing aside -- my child and I were both wearing matching gold shirts, with Willy in his Sunday-best button-down shirt and a brown tie, and me in a washed-out, vaguely filthy T-shirt.

We were dubbed the "golden boys."

Children's relief agencies      Compassion International's Web site describes the organization as "a Christian child advocacy ministry that releases children from spiritual, economic, social and physical poverty." Founded in 1952, Compassion helps more than 728,800 children in more than 20 countries.      Compassion International reports that 81.95 percent of donated money goes directly to children and programs, with the rest going to administration, fund raising and funds for future needs. Details: www.compassion.com; 1-800-336-7676.      Similar organizations that enable people to sponsor children in the Third World include: w World Vision International -- www.wvi.org; 1-888-511-6548. w Christian Children's Fund -- www.christianchildrensfund.com; 1-800-776-6767. w Save the Children -- www.savethechildren.org; 1-800-728-3843. w Plan USA -- www.planusa.org; 1-800-556-7918. -- Jim Heinrich

I was happy to meet Adela Serunkuma, the child development officer for Wakayamba Child Development Center, Willy's Compassion project. She had accompanied Willy on the 1 1/2-hour trip from the project to Kampala, and she was invaluable in helping me understand my child.

About a boy

One hundred twenty or so people rode in buses to the Jinja Nile Resort, overlooking the Nile River, about 50 miles east of Kampala, for a packed day of activities.

In one of my biggest shocks of the day, Willy told me: "Next to God, you are the most important person in my life."

There was no doubting his sincerity. However, I did not consider myself to be that special. All I had done was send $32 a month. But as I learned over and over again in upcoming days, the children viewed their sponsors as saviors.

Mrs. Serunkuma showed me a portfolio of Willy's school papers and Compassion papers, and I gained new insights.

Although I had been under the impression that Willy's parents were farmers, I read the lines that were filled in: "Father -- peasant. Mother -- peasant."

On other days of the trip, I saw first-hand how peasants lived, and I could well imagine Willy's home life.

I read about a Compassion inspection of his house: "Condition of house -- passed. Condition of latrine -- failed."

I learned that the only foods Willy eats at home are bananas and cassava -- all starch, no vegetables, no protein. (He gets some other foods at Compassion's programs.)

Although I had only a vague idea of when I became Willy's sponsor, he knew the date by heart -- July 28, 1997. I also had not realized that children are able to continue in Compassion's program until they turn 22.

Willy described himself as a "counselor" who encourages his friends to follow "a straight and narrow path." He wants to be a teacher.

His father is "alive but sickly," according to a Compassion report, and he has lost huge amounts of weight. Willy believes that his father is HIV-positive, although he refuses to go to a doctor. Similarly, Willy's mother would seem to be at great risk for HIV. (Up to 28 million people who are HIV-positive live in sub-Saharan Africa; 65 percent of them are women.)

Most important, Willy told me that when he turns 18 on July 25, his father -- whom he described as "very cruel" -- has promised to throw him out of the house. Willy is terrified that he will have to get an apartment, pay rent and drop out of school.

The best solution to his problem -- confirmed by Mrs. Serunkuma and by another Compassion staff member -- is for Willy to live at the school he now attends and to pay board.

Mrs. Serunkuma estimated that the cost would be $300 a year. This is exactly the maximum amount that Compassion sponsors are able to contribute toward special gifts per year.

I silently resolved to take care of the child I sponsor.

A full plate

At our buffet luncheon, Willy -- like all the other children -- piled his plate higher than I might have believed possible with foods he had never seen before. It would have been impossible for anyone to finish all the food on his plate, but after a decent interval, I insisted that he try a few desserts. In the Third World, desserts are generally unknown.

After eating, Willy went swimming in Jinja's upscale pool in a new swimming suit that I had bought with part of the $60 that British Airways had given me for misplacing my luggage. Willy floundered around in the shallow end, and various people gave him elementary swimming lessons -- mostly to keep this hopelessly inept swimmer's splashing to a minimum. When I asked Willy whether he was having fun, he replied, "Of course!" in a tone that might have been the Ugandan equivalent of "Duh!"

On the long trip home, we visited the source of the Nile at Lake Victoria and saw Bujagali Falls. Along the way, I promised him that I would do whatever I could to help him, and I reassured him that he shouldn't worry about his situation.

When we arrived back at Speke Resort in Kampala around 9:45 p.m., I hugged Willy, I shook Mrs. Serunkuma's hand and, starving, I ate a late-night dinner as I tried to absorb the events of the day -- what had brought me to Uganda, what I had learned there and what I would take away.

Presents

The next day, in part because Willy hadn't recognized me without it, I decided to grow my beard back.

My luggage arrived in Kampala the day after that, but by then our group was eight hours away in Kasese, in the extreme western part of Uganda, near the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo. When I was asked whether I wanted Compassion to transport my luggage to me, I replied, "No thanks. I've been doing fine without it, and I can last without it until Monday night," when we were to return to Kampala.

In fact, I was glad not to have to lug around the suitcase, and I learned just how little a person really needs to live on for 11 days abroad.

On the last full day in Uganda, I unpacked the luggage of all the presents I had for Willy -- a deflated new soccer ball, a dozen T-shirts from a drawer I'd cleaned out (as well as several new ones), several sweaters I had accidentally shrunk, handkerchiefs, two sticks of deodorant, soap, a wallet (probably the most useless gift of all for someone who had nothing to put in it!) and several dozen miscellaneous presents, including the two shirts I had washed out every night and never wanted to see again.

I left behind two Kaufmann's shopping bags of presents for Willy, in the care of a Compassion International staff member who would deliver them to him. But they were only "things."

Willy had never asked me for anything. In fact, he'd told me that he didn't need any presents at all.

Like the other children, he radiated with happiness throughout the day he'd spent with his sponsor.

I realized that I'd given Willy something that only I could give him.

Myself.

Sponsor Marci Jones of Roseville, Ohio, meets with children at a Compassion International project in Uganda.