Malayaka Gym

Malayaka House is a place of infinite possibilities and is constantly changing, yet it always feels the same each time you are there. Things change because there are 36+ kids these days and they grow, their interests change, and each volunteer that visits shares something a little different. It is why this place is great to visit once, and even greater to visit often.

That brings me to the Malayaka Gym of 2017, fives years since my first visit.. Something important to know about Uganda, and many developing countries, is that people don’t waste anything. In this case a few years earlier a volunteer named Uncle Machete visited and he was really into weight training (not sure why I settled for Uncle Evan after hearing stories about this guy). So when he was there, he found someone who was a metal worker and asked for some lifting weights to be made. They made a good size bench bar of about 50-75 lbs, a bunch of smaller free weights, and a lighter bench bar of about 30-40 lbs. Now the reason I am giving estimates of  the weights is because they were literally metal poles that were welded to random metal objects, mostly round pieces that looked like they came out of the gears of large farming equipment. One pole had been put in a paint can which was then filled with cement that hardened to the end of the bar, then it was flipped over so a paint can could be cemented to the other end. Paying someone to make things out of spare parts is always cheaper than finding something imported from a developed country that was specifically manufactured for certain activities.

So all this equipment was stored away in one of the garages when I came across them. Over the past few years, many of the little kids I met years ago had now become teenagers. Teenagers, as I am sure many of you know, are always harder to spend time with because they don’t like playing as much anymore. So, much like with my own kids, finding common activities is important for bonding. One evening after the babies went to sleep, I pulled the equipment out of the garage and me, Sali, Bobo, and Che Che “did gym” as they say: a three set circuit of upper body exercises, shirtless of course so we could admire the muscles we were building.

Two nights later about the same time, I pulled out the weights again and this time we were joined by William, Danny, and Jimmy, too. Two nights later, I didn’t have to pull things out because someone came and said “Uncle Evan, it is time for gym.” This routine stuck for the three weeks I was there, every other night. We would pull the equipment out, take off our shirts, do our circuit three times, and then we would sit in front of the boys’ house drinking sodas, flexing, and making each other laugh. Each night we worked out, the group would grow.

On one of my final nights in Entebbe I was finishing up dinner and chatting with some people when I was informed it was time for gym. I walked from the guest house to the boys’ house and realized our group had grown from just me and the three teens/preteens to pretty much every kid that wasn’t forced to be in bed by 7PM. It was me and everybody else.

Since there wasn’t enough equipment for everyone and really not much equipment for little kids, a line of kids formed in front of the house to prove their strength to participate. So there were all my favorite little guys, Amina, Elijah, Hannah, and Ishmat, shirtless doing push ups and sit ups to prove themselves. We didn’t want anyone to feel left out, so we were just doing whatever exercises we could. There were push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, running in place, and just about any other exercise you could imagine. In front of the boys’ house was a loud barrage of counting as each kid worked to announce their strength as loudly as they could. As I looked around at the faces that are usually covered with smiles giving off laughter, I saw only determination because “gym” was serious business. And as little kids getting to hand out with the bigger kids, none of them wanted to be seen as too immature to participate. No one wanted to be accused of playing. The younger the person, the more serious the facial expression was, as if each push up was a life or death situation.

Eventually I declared gym to be over so that everyone could relax, and that meant everyone had earned the best part. We all sat together on the porch of the boys’ house satisfied from the hard work, laughing and flexing our muscles together. Each kid got a chance to show off their muscles.  And if someone was really feeling proud they showed a feat of strength to impress the group. Maybe climb a pole, or do a handstand, or someone particularly little would pick me up. Each feat was impressive, but would spark a debate about whether we should all be impressed. The debates, the stories, and the jokes that were shared in the dim light of the porch served as more than just enjoyment, as each minute being used was another minute that pushed off bedtime. And if bedtime never came, the day never ended. And if the day never ended, then my flight would never come. And if my flight never came, then I could stay forever. So we all worked just to stay in that moment for as long as we possibly could.