Small Feet, High Mountain
The Story of Edith Wakumire
by
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When Christine started school, Edith was left more and more alone with her aunt. As Soferesi grew older she became more desperate, and her men more callous. She started spending more time drinking busera with her friends. By now seven-year-old Edith was doing most of the hard work – fetching water, chopping wood, digging the garden and cooking food. One day Soferesi went out boozing, leaving Edith to make the supper. In Uganda, however meagre the fare, people are fussy about the flavour, using herbs and onions to make delicious gravy. Edith needed onion leaves, and went to look for them in the garden. Joe, the teenage son of Musa, Soferesi’s current husband, looked up from his digging.
‘What do you want?’
‘I need some onion leaves.’
He put his spade down, wiped his hands on his trousers and stared at her thoughtfully. Although Edith was still small, her body was sturdy. Joe looked around: there was no-one else in sight. The boy’s voice softened. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her towards the house.
‘You come back to the house with me, and I’ll lie down with you, then I’ll give you the onion leaves.’
Edith pulled away quickly. A child brought up in a small African house knows what happens when a man and a woman lie down together.
‘No, I won’t!’ she shouted. ‘And when Kuku comes back I’ll tell her what you said.’
‘If you do, I’ll kill you!’
Edith stared him out. Joe was the first to turn away. He marched across to the onion patch, tore off a few leaves and thrust them into her hand. Nothing more was said, and Edith made the gravy. After that she stayed as far away from Joe as possible.
Musa was at home a few days later when a neighbour rushed to the house, shouting, ‘Come quickly, Musa. Soferesi’s been drinking with another fellow and they’ve crashed his bicycle!’ Furious, Musa ran to the site of the alleged accident, and met Soferesi on her way home. Perhaps she did have a drink with another man, but the accident was simple enough: the man had offered her a lift, the brakes had failed and the bike had crashed. The few grazes Soferesi had suffered were nothing to the cuts and bruises she got from Musa’s beating. Soferesi crawled into the hut half dead and curled up on her mat.
Edith was terrified; not of Musa – she knew he was a cowardly bully. But if Soferesi died, what would happen to her? And Soferesi was obviously dying.
The child had a tender heart. Pity alone moved her to wash those cuts and put pads of cold water on the swollen eyes. She cradled the bruised head and trickled water through the bleeding lips. No one else came near the house. For two days she stayed in the house, nursing her aunt.
On the third day Soferesi was well enough to sit up. She began to show signs of returning to her normal irascible self, and ate a little food. In the evening Edith closed the shutters and lit a candle. Soferesi sighed loudly.
‘My neck hurts. Get me some hot water, child. And I mean hot. And soap.’
Edith went out to the back of the house, built up a fire and stood a kettle of water on it, humming happily to herself. Kuku wasn’t going to die after all. She remembered her father’s teaching, and in her childish way said thank you to God for making Kuku better. Then in the dim glow of candle-light from the front room she rounded up all she needed. She poured the boiling water carefully into an enamel bowl, put the towel over her shoulder, tucked the soap under her arm and picked up the bowl. She heard the front door opening and voices murmuring in the other room. Visitors had avoided the house since the accident, but a neighbour must have popped in. Probably out of curiosity. Possibly to see what they could steal. There was only one thing: the candle. As Edith carried the bowl carefully towards the doorway, the light went out and the door slammed. The visitor and the candle were gone.
Edith stumbled. The bowl tilted. Boiling water splashed over her arms, hand, chest and stomach. She screamed, and then there was merciful blackness.
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About the Book
When Edith was six months old her mother died, leaving her father with five daughters, a disgrace in the eyes of the community. Twelve years later he was murdered. Edith started school when she was nine, paying for her education by gathering bamboo shoots in the forest and growing coffee.
An orphan girl in rural Uganda had two options: to be sold into a multiple marriage – or prostitution. Edith prayed, ‘Please don’t let me be like other girls. And, Lord, if I must marry, let him be a poor man.’
Her marriage to David Wakumire has broken many traditions. During Idi Amin’s years of terror, Edith did her teacher training in Kampala, while David smuggled bibles into Uganda for Open Doors. Her sister was Amin’s secretary.
In 1991, after leadership training in Singapore, Edith founded the church-based Uganda Women Concern Ministry. Their volunteers now care for over 11,000 affected by HIV/Aids and sponsor the education of many orphans. In 1998 Kofi Annan presented her with a certificate for her work at the United Nations, New York.
Edith now speaks as a world authority on the relationship between Aids, poverty and a woman’s place in society.
Margaret Spivey has written several books for children. She lived in East Africa for many years and returned to Uganda to learn about Edith’s remarkable life.
Roz Hime says: This is the story of how one woman, with God’s help – and an untraditional marriage – transformed her life and changes the lives of everyone she meets. If you care about women’s rights, education, Aids, Africa, compassion and hope, Edith’s story is for you.
About the Author
Margaret Spivey was born in Yorkshire, married the boy next door, and lived in London before moving to East Africa, where her husband, a Marine Officer, worked on the lakes for fourteen years. She had been a Secretary, but on her return to England took evening classes to make up for a failed school certificate, qualified for college as a mature student, and trained as a teacher. She and their young son and daughter then went with her husband to Fiji for eight years. There she spent three years teaching at the grammar school and played an increasingly active role in the theatre.
Since her teens Margaret has been involved in drama, whether as back row of a Gilbert & Sullivan chorus, playing a serious role, being the pantomime fairy or directing Murder in the Cathedral – in a cathedral. She was a story-reader and presenter in Radio Fiji’s schools broadcasts unit.
Back in England Margaret joined the Association of Christian Writers, started writing books for children, and was a regular contributor to Scripture Union’s children’s work for twelve years. One of her books is a teaching aid for Old Testament studies. She has produced a steady output of short stories, sketches and magazine articles, and won two poetry prizes.
Margaret is an active Christian and church member, and has taken part in missions in Northern Ireland and other places. She believes passionately in the work Edith Wakumire is doing. Her Christian beliefs and love of Africa have led her to write Edith’s biography, and she is confident that the time it has taken has been time well spent.
When Margaret is not writing she shares retirement with her husband, which includes enjoying one grandson in England and visiting two in Australia.