Dollies

(I should be just arriving in Entebbe as this blog is posted.)

When I was little my mom used to buy me dolls for every occasion. I’m not sure if she gifted these dolls because I wanted them or because she wanted them, but I loved them all. I still have many of them packed in boxes with pillows cushioning their little heads, blankets tucked under their tiny chins, and plenty of breathing room in their plastic storage boxes (ya, I know). Each doll is lying next to a friend so she’s not alone in that big, dark box. Other than my sister feeding me applesauce from the Baby Alive (seriously, you have to watch this commercial) food dish when I was little, my experience with dolls has been very positive.

Over the years my mom taught me how to sew so that I could make doll clothes, blankets, and all the other accoutrements necessary for the proper care of dolls. My sweet grandpa – along with teaching me how to shoot a gun, play poker, fish, and lay model train track – taught me how to build doll furniture from scraps of wood found in his workshop.

The last time I was in Uganda, I posted a request for a doll for this little girl. Her doll has no arms, no legs, a shock of mohawk hair, and is very white. My very talented momma responded (as I thought she might) with a cute brown-faced doll. Somehow we got to talking about how easy it would be to make dolls – she’s SO good at crafts like that. Yesterday, four gorgeous little black dollies popped out of a box a little like the snakes that pop out of the trick peanut brittle can. Two little girls in Kyamagemule and Karamjoa will be the benefactor of these lovingly made dollies.

Thank you mom.