Like my first trip to Uganda, I didn't see a lot of critters this time around. There were, of course, cows and goats and chickens. I saw and heard eighty times the amount of dogs than last year. Some people keep dogs as sort of watch dogs but mostly they just run around the streets and scavange and sleep and generally just get in the way. They howl at the worst possible times like 2 am and 3 am and 4 am...
In addition to the dogs I saw several geckos. They are much cuter than the computer generated version in the commercials. And they are quick. My favorite one lived in the common room at the EAC house, but the one in the shower was a close second. The only critter I met face to face that I was not fond of was the giant, man-eating spider we encountered one night in the common room.
We didn't actually witness it eating anyone, but I think it wanted to. Three of us were in the room doing various things. I'm sure we were each very absorbed in whatever it is we were doing until the largest blackish-brown spider I have ever seen ran into the room from the adjacent office. It stopped over the office door, effectively trapping us in the room. There was screaming of epic, hilarious volume and I'm pretty sure I gagged a few times. The spider didn't stay put for long and when he moved he had speed and then settled over the other doorway, the one leading to the rest of the house. At that point I had chills. This was like being in a sci-fi movie. Kelsey, amazingly, stayed comfortably in her chair. Ashley and I, who were doing most if not all of the screaming, moved to the opposite side of the room so we could keep an eye on Spidey. I kept checking for my little gecko friend hoping he would come save us, but he was off that night.
We alerted Lauren, the house critter-hater, knowing she would demand a response from someone. Erin the Fearless suggested we let him live to eat mosquitoes, but there was no way we were going to sleep in the house that night if that giant spider was lurking in the corners. Spiders bite people, too. I know this. Plus, they're ugly.
So naturally, we did what any girl in our situation would do; we woke up the nearest male who just so happened to be down with malaria. And also, he hates spiders too. But the time had come for man to be man so he chased it around the wall and whacked it with a shoe and it fell into the darkness behind the Christmas "tree" and no one knew if it was dead or alive for a while.
Trusting no one but the makers of OFF! with Deet, we grabbed a can and doused the area. You know, to be safe. Better safe than eaten by a spider. There was some immediate denial about the death of the spider. We had to find the body if we were to have closure. And just so you can picture this night clearly you should know that Kelsey didn't move from her seat until the spider's laser targeted her forehead. She stuck it out and held her ground until the bitter end.
We did find the big black ball of dead legs and massive body under the "tree" and checked periodically to be sure he wasn't faking. He wasn't. Sorry critter lovers.
In the nights that followed I was extremely happy to see Gecky every night. I loved him even more for occupying our common room and keeping the peace. And after all of that, I didn't even mind when I encountered a roach under my pillow as I got into bed one night. I just chased it off the bed and made sure to shake it out of my mosquito net and slept peacefully, knowing the world's largest spider was dead and that my gecko was out there patrolling the night.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Today is a Weird Day
Today and yesterday have been filled with sick people. My sister and my two nephews and one niece all have the flu. Or a flu. I don't know if it's the flu. I love taking care of them and even more, I love that I am not sick. And for the past two days I keep thinking in the back of my mind that I am getting behind on my blog and when that happens I tend to never get back here. I've been hounding myself in my head all day to find time to do this. But now that today is over and I am sitting here I can see the perfection in the timing of all of this.
After ringing in the New Year and the church service that followed we had a day to recoup because the campers who had stayed strong needed time to shower off five days of camp. Ashley and I were in our last week and our team would be doing the EAC "regular" projects. EAC takes time each week to visit several places. We were blessed enough to experience four; a children's hospital, a babies' home, a remand home for juvenile offenders and a home for street kids.
I can't remember the order without looking in my journal but I can remember exactly what we did at each place and several faces of children from each home. I can remember the lessons we taught and the chores we helped complete. I can remember several injuries and defects in the hospital and at least three specific babies with green runny noses. I can remember little Francis, who after thirty minutes found a special place in my heart. I can vividly see the faces of the juveniles who told me so much about themselves without fear of judgement. And that one little toddler who kept shaking his booty to the guitar music.
In two of the homes we were not permitted to take photos for very legitimate reasons. I can imagine how hard it must be for the employees of these institutions to deal with new groups of excited Mzungus coming in and out all the time. In the babies' home I had a little boy who looked about three years old run up to me crying for one reason or another and I picked him up and held him until his teacher kindly informed me that 'we don't hold the children in the classrooms'. I hadn't even realized I was in a classroom. And don't worry, nothing was wrong with him. I believe he had been told to put his shoes on and instead he had started crying.
So yesterday, here at home, while I played with the baby and the two fevered children slept, and then again today while two recovering children fought and the sick baby and his mama slept, I keep drifting back to those places, to those children. It's amazing to me the difference in how illness effects our little American children and how it effects the little African kids. I won't bore you with sob stories, but I could. I won't guilt you into sponsoring a child, but I should. It's really such an amazing thing to see how giving something that you won't even miss will completely change the course of a child's life. Ok, maybe I just did what I said I wouldn't do. I can't help it.
Always, in addition to helping with physical needs, our priority is to fill spiritual needs. Some of the facilities we visited are run by Christian groups or churches. In all of them we spoke of Jesus and prayed with the kids. So many of the older kids in the remand home were touched by our willingness to spend time talking with and to them. The testimonies that were relayed to me are incredible. In the babies' home the walls were posted with bible verses to remind the workers to be patient, loving, trusting. Those babies might not have families but they are fairing better than most American orphans in that they are being exposed to Truth every day.
I guess I'll plug EAC here because they really are doing amazing things all in Christ's name.
www.empower-a-child.org
I could go on and on and on with stories about the kids I met and the gross things I cleaned off the floor of the babies' home but I'd like to keep this short. These projects were like nothing I've ever experienced before, including the last time I was in Uganda. If you seek perspective about anything (germs, poverty, what qualifies as "dish soap") I would advise you to go to Africa and visit a place like one of these. Short of that, you can ask me for a sob story on behalf of the kids I met and the places I saw. I'll gladly have us both in tears.
After ringing in the New Year and the church service that followed we had a day to recoup because the campers who had stayed strong needed time to shower off five days of camp. Ashley and I were in our last week and our team would be doing the EAC "regular" projects. EAC takes time each week to visit several places. We were blessed enough to experience four; a children's hospital, a babies' home, a remand home for juvenile offenders and a home for street kids.
I can't remember the order without looking in my journal but I can remember exactly what we did at each place and several faces of children from each home. I can remember the lessons we taught and the chores we helped complete. I can remember several injuries and defects in the hospital and at least three specific babies with green runny noses. I can remember little Francis, who after thirty minutes found a special place in my heart. I can vividly see the faces of the juveniles who told me so much about themselves without fear of judgement. And that one little toddler who kept shaking his booty to the guitar music.
In two of the homes we were not permitted to take photos for very legitimate reasons. I can imagine how hard it must be for the employees of these institutions to deal with new groups of excited Mzungus coming in and out all the time. In the babies' home I had a little boy who looked about three years old run up to me crying for one reason or another and I picked him up and held him until his teacher kindly informed me that 'we don't hold the children in the classrooms'. I hadn't even realized I was in a classroom. And don't worry, nothing was wrong with him. I believe he had been told to put his shoes on and instead he had started crying.
So yesterday, here at home, while I played with the baby and the two fevered children slept, and then again today while two recovering children fought and the sick baby and his mama slept, I keep drifting back to those places, to those children. It's amazing to me the difference in how illness effects our little American children and how it effects the little African kids. I won't bore you with sob stories, but I could. I won't guilt you into sponsoring a child, but I should. It's really such an amazing thing to see how giving something that you won't even miss will completely change the course of a child's life. Ok, maybe I just did what I said I wouldn't do. I can't help it.
Always, in addition to helping with physical needs, our priority is to fill spiritual needs. Some of the facilities we visited are run by Christian groups or churches. In all of them we spoke of Jesus and prayed with the kids. So many of the older kids in the remand home were touched by our willingness to spend time talking with and to them. The testimonies that were relayed to me are incredible. In the babies' home the walls were posted with bible verses to remind the workers to be patient, loving, trusting. Those babies might not have families but they are fairing better than most American orphans in that they are being exposed to Truth every day.
I guess I'll plug EAC here because they really are doing amazing things all in Christ's name.
www.empower-a-child.org
I could go on and on and on with stories about the kids I met and the gross things I cleaned off the floor of the babies' home but I'd like to keep this short. These projects were like nothing I've ever experienced before, including the last time I was in Uganda. If you seek perspective about anything (germs, poverty, what qualifies as "dish soap") I would advise you to go to Africa and visit a place like one of these. Short of that, you can ask me for a sob story on behalf of the kids I met and the places I saw. I'll gladly have us both in tears.
Monday, January 17, 2011
What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
As a result of my inability to last five days at camp I, along with the three other quitters, was home for New Year's Eve.
On an earlier occasion I had heard Sheilla, one of our Ugandan hostesses, referring to her "African spirit" and I spent some time over the holiday weekend thinking about how badly I needed some African spirit. It's my opinion that African spirit is whatever it is in the village kids that makes them smile so brightly even though they are hungry. It's what made camp fun for all those people even though we were all sharing a water pump. Sheilla uses hers to get up and unlock a seriously barred front door at dawn even though she only got to bed at midnight. The African spirit is most evident whenever we are called to praise and worship.
On New Year's Eve Jonah, a Ugandan EAC employee, attended one such service that began in the evening and was projected to run all night. I don't think any Mzungus had what it takes to accept his invitation to join, but I can imagine the noise of the crowd and the loud, powerful singing and the warm, heartfelt prayers. Africans don't hold back when they are praising their Lord. That bold, shameless ability of expression is something Americans are sorely lacking. I wondered that night if I had ever once entertained the notion of staying up all night to thank God for the opening of a New Year, a new day, anything.
I remember as a child at Camp Susque how we would take one special night and go for a hike and stay out next to a campfire singing and praying and sharing until everyone was falling asleep. I remember looking forward to that every year, that time of uninterrupted reverence to God. But it still doesn't compare to the open hearts of an African praise and worship service. It was amazing to see how they'd taken a holiday that, for me, is completely meaningless and turned it into a beautiful time to worship. It makes me think how incredibly white Americans are. Not in skin color, but in their worship. For holidays we get together and have a 30 minute devotion and play some board games and I have never not enjoyed that kind of celebration. But why don't we have the other kind too? How come we're so vanilla? Why don't adults in America shout praise songs to ring in the New Year? I really think this is something we need to institute.
Not that I did it that night. Like I said, none of us accepted the invitation. We stayed at home, being white. We gathered all of the balloons that had been up for Christmas and I photographed four other Mzungus jumping off a wall and popping balloons at midnight. We had fun, but we didn't do much praising. Not out loud or as a group anyway.
We did venture out into the street after the stroke of twelve, to see what the neighbors were doing. While Christians in Uganda were praising and singing, the nonChristians were celebrating very much like Americans. The air out in the street was probably about 98% vodka and fireworks were going off in the city. People were dancing and celebrating and so for just a few minutes we stepped outside of our whiteness and danced with them. I laughed a lot that night.
On an earlier occasion I had heard Sheilla, one of our Ugandan hostesses, referring to her "African spirit" and I spent some time over the holiday weekend thinking about how badly I needed some African spirit. It's my opinion that African spirit is whatever it is in the village kids that makes them smile so brightly even though they are hungry. It's what made camp fun for all those people even though we were all sharing a water pump. Sheilla uses hers to get up and unlock a seriously barred front door at dawn even though she only got to bed at midnight. The African spirit is most evident whenever we are called to praise and worship.
On New Year's Eve Jonah, a Ugandan EAC employee, attended one such service that began in the evening and was projected to run all night. I don't think any Mzungus had what it takes to accept his invitation to join, but I can imagine the noise of the crowd and the loud, powerful singing and the warm, heartfelt prayers. Africans don't hold back when they are praising their Lord. That bold, shameless ability of expression is something Americans are sorely lacking. I wondered that night if I had ever once entertained the notion of staying up all night to thank God for the opening of a New Year, a new day, anything.
I remember as a child at Camp Susque how we would take one special night and go for a hike and stay out next to a campfire singing and praying and sharing until everyone was falling asleep. I remember looking forward to that every year, that time of uninterrupted reverence to God. But it still doesn't compare to the open hearts of an African praise and worship service. It was amazing to see how they'd taken a holiday that, for me, is completely meaningless and turned it into a beautiful time to worship. It makes me think how incredibly white Americans are. Not in skin color, but in their worship. For holidays we get together and have a 30 minute devotion and play some board games and I have never not enjoyed that kind of celebration. But why don't we have the other kind too? How come we're so vanilla? Why don't adults in America shout praise songs to ring in the New Year? I really think this is something we need to institute.
Not that I did it that night. Like I said, none of us accepted the invitation. We stayed at home, being white. We gathered all of the balloons that had been up for Christmas and I photographed four other Mzungus jumping off a wall and popping balloons at midnight. We had fun, but we didn't do much praising. Not out loud or as a group anyway.
We did venture out into the street after the stroke of twelve, to see what the neighbors were doing. While Christians in Uganda were praising and singing, the nonChristians were celebrating very much like Americans. The air out in the street was probably about 98% vodka and fireworks were going off in the city. People were dancing and celebrating and so for just a few minutes we stepped outside of our whiteness and danced with them. I laughed a lot that night.
Friday, January 14, 2011
White Girls Can't Camp
I probably should just skip over this next part but I'm not going to.
We left for camp on Tuesday the 28th of December. The camp was held at a university campus about an hour from our house in Kampala. Not hosted by EAC, we were guests at this retreat for sponsored kids from all over Uganda. Several church groups and other organizations attended and "kids" ranged in age from 13 to 25. Our handful of Mzungus were the only white folk in attendance and so our celebrity status rose to a new height. We weren't asked to sign any autographs this time (although technically we weren't asked the last time either) but as soon as we hopped out of our van we were greeted and stared at and smiled at quite profusely.
The campus was gorgeous. The simple brick and concrete buildings were large and spread out and the trees that dotted the property were breathtaking. Our courtyard (snicker, snicker) was even landscaped with bushes and looked quite American. There were cows grazing randomly on one side of the property, along with a few goats and sheep. The entire campus was fenced in as is Ugandan style. Barbed wire runs along the top of every fence you see around towns and in the city so this campus was no exception.
We registered and then waited while other kids arrived and registered. Strangely enough, our glaringly white group was overlooked during bed assignments and we waited for the rest of the day to be assigned to a room. In the evening we finally volunteered to stay in a large empty room that was being used as a store. In one tiny corner there were stacks of snack supplies for sale and the rest of the room was filled with our stuff. We were granted permission and we brought in our mattresses and set up camp.
The theme for the program was "Solidarity with Purpose." We had received name tags and schedules for the five-day camp and had only the vaguest idea of what we were in for.
To make a very, very long story a little less boring and shameful, not all of us lasted the five days.
Our only white male had been ill since before my arrival in Uganda and wasn't as well as he wanted to be. He left early on the third day to head back to the EAC house. In the span of those two days we had tried our hand at small groups, workshops and the various worship services. I was very moved at how dedicated to the Gospel and to "Solida" my fellow campers were. All of the kids were also incredibly friendly. The problem some of us white girls had was with the basics.
By day three we had relocated from the store to a vacant classroom and were skipping meals we didn't think we could stomach. Three of us were bed ridden. Ashley had stomach pains. Ivan, our group leader offered us a ride home and we took it. We debated, but we took it. Four of us did the walk of shame to the van and made the escape back to plumbing and food.
But as God would have it our time at camp was not a waste. We did meet several of the kids and really learned from them. These kids came from villages and cities all over Uganda and were united in one thing: Christ. Our solidarity message was an important one and the camp theme song that went with it really spoke to me about our need to acknowledge that. As a (wannabe) missionary I need to remember that I am only one unit in the full body of Christ. Knowing that the bible-believing churches in Uganda are established well enough to come together for an annual camping retreat was an incredible encouragement.
We were blessed to have a white girl representative stay behind. I'm sure she was disappointed that we left, as were we, but she stuck it out until the end. As for me, I had never been happier to see a shower. I had a lot to think about and I had to come to terms with what, essentially, was quitting. While we were comparing our experience to jail and concentration camps it really wasn't anywhere near as bad as that. It was shocking and pretty surreal, but we were one in Christ. Solidarity with a purpose. We weren't there for ourselves and even though we couldn't get past physical circumstances enough to see that during our camp stay, the lessons of this experience are definitely something I will know and remember for the rest of my life.
We left for camp on Tuesday the 28th of December. The camp was held at a university campus about an hour from our house in Kampala. Not hosted by EAC, we were guests at this retreat for sponsored kids from all over Uganda. Several church groups and other organizations attended and "kids" ranged in age from 13 to 25. Our handful of Mzungus were the only white folk in attendance and so our celebrity status rose to a new height. We weren't asked to sign any autographs this time (although technically we weren't asked the last time either) but as soon as we hopped out of our van we were greeted and stared at and smiled at quite profusely.
The campus was gorgeous. The simple brick and concrete buildings were large and spread out and the trees that dotted the property were breathtaking. Our courtyard (snicker, snicker) was even landscaped with bushes and looked quite American. There were cows grazing randomly on one side of the property, along with a few goats and sheep. The entire campus was fenced in as is Ugandan style. Barbed wire runs along the top of every fence you see around towns and in the city so this campus was no exception.
We registered and then waited while other kids arrived and registered. Strangely enough, our glaringly white group was overlooked during bed assignments and we waited for the rest of the day to be assigned to a room. In the evening we finally volunteered to stay in a large empty room that was being used as a store. In one tiny corner there were stacks of snack supplies for sale and the rest of the room was filled with our stuff. We were granted permission and we brought in our mattresses and set up camp.
The theme for the program was "Solidarity with Purpose." We had received name tags and schedules for the five-day camp and had only the vaguest idea of what we were in for.
To make a very, very long story a little less boring and shameful, not all of us lasted the five days.
Our only white male had been ill since before my arrival in Uganda and wasn't as well as he wanted to be. He left early on the third day to head back to the EAC house. In the span of those two days we had tried our hand at small groups, workshops and the various worship services. I was very moved at how dedicated to the Gospel and to "Solida" my fellow campers were. All of the kids were also incredibly friendly. The problem some of us white girls had was with the basics.
By day three we had relocated from the store to a vacant classroom and were skipping meals we didn't think we could stomach. Three of us were bed ridden. Ashley had stomach pains. Ivan, our group leader offered us a ride home and we took it. We debated, but we took it. Four of us did the walk of shame to the van and made the escape back to plumbing and food.
But as God would have it our time at camp was not a waste. We did meet several of the kids and really learned from them. These kids came from villages and cities all over Uganda and were united in one thing: Christ. Our solidarity message was an important one and the camp theme song that went with it really spoke to me about our need to acknowledge that. As a (wannabe) missionary I need to remember that I am only one unit in the full body of Christ. Knowing that the bible-believing churches in Uganda are established well enough to come together for an annual camping retreat was an incredible encouragement.
We were blessed to have a white girl representative stay behind. I'm sure she was disappointed that we left, as were we, but she stuck it out until the end. As for me, I had never been happier to see a shower. I had a lot to think about and I had to come to terms with what, essentially, was quitting. While we were comparing our experience to jail and concentration camps it really wasn't anywhere near as bad as that. It was shocking and pretty surreal, but we were one in Christ. Solidarity with a purpose. We weren't there for ourselves and even though we couldn't get past physical circumstances enough to see that during our camp stay, the lessons of this experience are definitely something I will know and remember for the rest of my life.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
So This Is Christmas...in Africa
Several times during the first few days of my stay at the EAC house the other girls would ask Ashley and me why we had come over Christmas. Most of the other MSTs were in Uganda for extended stays. Some were a few months, one nearly a year. Ashley and I had come on a short term trip and the fact that we had intentionally planned it over the biggest holiday of the year really astonished some people. We told them about our planning process and how nicely our little trip fit into Ashley's winter break from school. We had toyed with the idea of a summer trip that would match my trip of '09 but somewhere in the process these dates had stuck and God sent us over the holiday break.
Now, I love my family. But I didn't miss them at all.
Being home now and seeing their photos from the get togethers and the kids' gift exchange makes me sad to have missed it all but on Christmas morning when I woke up in my mosquito net and had egg nog French toast in my shorts and watched the rain while I frosted cookies I did not miss Christmas at home.
We had a lot of company on Christmas and I got to meet several sisters of some of the EAC employees. Jayan, sort of the EAC house mother, cooked several Ugandan dishes for us and I roasted a chicken (something the Ugandans had never seen done before). We had Christmas cookies and granola and stuffing. Cooking in a Ugandan kitchen is no easy feat and once while the chicken was in the oven the pilot went out (or someone unknowingly shut it off) and it was a little while later before I noticed and had it relit. With no numbered dial to tell me how hot the oven was we had to just guess. I also didn't know how many pounds my chicken was. I can only imagine how Ashley's cookie baking had gone the night before.
Altogether it was a very nice blend of both cultures. We even had a Christmas tree (which was up when I arrived at the house) in the corner, decorated with lights, paper grass, hand and home made ornaments and balloons.
The morning rain storm was a heavy one and we had a perfect view from the common room windows. Once the rain passed the air dried out some and we spent the day together, watching Christmas movies and talking. We had plenty of cookies so we took a plate of them out to the neighbor kids and also gave them their first American candy canes.
There were no church services the day after Christmas so our break continued. Schedule to leave for camp on Tuesday, some of us used our Monday off to the fullest and went to the Equator. The taxi ride, even at high speed when the roads allowed, was over an hour long. We had lunch and shopped a little bit. We headed home right around sunset and most of our drive back was in the dark.
Ugandan taxis are large vans with quite a few seats and everyone just mashes in for maximum profit. I was in the very last row and the gentleman in front of me asked to share my iPod. I gave him an ear and we listened to Christian rap the whole way home. Outside of Kampala we hit a traffic jam of epic proportions and our driver abruptly turned around and got out of there. He took a back way through what looked like the jungle in Tarzan. I wasn't sure he was sure of the way but I forced my attention back to my musical witnessing for a bit. It wasn't until the van stopped and the headlights and motor turned off that I had a mild panic attack.
The driver was only asking directions, I assume for how to get out of that jungle. We made it safely back to Kampala, never really having been in any danger at all. Silly white girl.
Thus concluded our Christmas break. We would leave for camp the following day and so I went to bed with Ivan's promise of clean squatties and fun camp activities echoing in my head.
Now, I love my family. But I didn't miss them at all.
Being home now and seeing their photos from the get togethers and the kids' gift exchange makes me sad to have missed it all but on Christmas morning when I woke up in my mosquito net and had egg nog French toast in my shorts and watched the rain while I frosted cookies I did not miss Christmas at home.
We had a lot of company on Christmas and I got to meet several sisters of some of the EAC employees. Jayan, sort of the EAC house mother, cooked several Ugandan dishes for us and I roasted a chicken (something the Ugandans had never seen done before). We had Christmas cookies and granola and stuffing. Cooking in a Ugandan kitchen is no easy feat and once while the chicken was in the oven the pilot went out (or someone unknowingly shut it off) and it was a little while later before I noticed and had it relit. With no numbered dial to tell me how hot the oven was we had to just guess. I also didn't know how many pounds my chicken was. I can only imagine how Ashley's cookie baking had gone the night before.
Altogether it was a very nice blend of both cultures. We even had a Christmas tree (which was up when I arrived at the house) in the corner, decorated with lights, paper grass, hand and home made ornaments and balloons.
The morning rain storm was a heavy one and we had a perfect view from the common room windows. Once the rain passed the air dried out some and we spent the day together, watching Christmas movies and talking. We had plenty of cookies so we took a plate of them out to the neighbor kids and also gave them their first American candy canes.
There were no church services the day after Christmas so our break continued. Schedule to leave for camp on Tuesday, some of us used our Monday off to the fullest and went to the Equator. The taxi ride, even at high speed when the roads allowed, was over an hour long. We had lunch and shopped a little bit. We headed home right around sunset and most of our drive back was in the dark.
Ugandan taxis are large vans with quite a few seats and everyone just mashes in for maximum profit. I was in the very last row and the gentleman in front of me asked to share my iPod. I gave him an ear and we listened to Christian rap the whole way home. Outside of Kampala we hit a traffic jam of epic proportions and our driver abruptly turned around and got out of there. He took a back way through what looked like the jungle in Tarzan. I wasn't sure he was sure of the way but I forced my attention back to my musical witnessing for a bit. It wasn't until the van stopped and the headlights and motor turned off that I had a mild panic attack.
The driver was only asking directions, I assume for how to get out of that jungle. We made it safely back to Kampala, never really having been in any danger at all. Silly white girl.
Thus concluded our Christmas break. We would leave for camp the following day and so I went to bed with Ivan's promise of clean squatties and fun camp activities echoing in my head.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Upon Our Entry...
This time around I traveled with a friend named Ashley. She shares my desire to participate in as many missions-oriented trips as possible and she actually set this trip in motion. We had a very delayed take off from Newark on December 20th and finally reached Entebbe, Uganda late on the 21st. An Empower-A-Child employee drove us from the airport to the house in Ntinda (Kampala) and thus our mission had begun. We had no sooner walked into the house when we were informed that we would be leaving in the morning for a special Christmas program in a nearby village.
This particular program was headed by a fellow MST (our short term missionary title) who had felt called to lead an outreach to a very needy village. Our team spent three days and two nights in the village, going to the heart of it every morning to visit with families, share the Gospel and the meaning of Christmas and to pray with and for the families. We were so blessed as to leave some small practical gifts with the neediest among them. We also held a program for the children in the afternoons, a time for fun and games and additional Bible stories. The children attended in mass quantities and hung on every word of the puppet shows that illustrated the Bible lesson. They loved their crafts and we were overjoyed to see several children still wearing their construction paper crowns when we drove through the village the next day.
Our hotel facility just outside the village was nothing short of five African stars, what with the Ugandan double bed and the spa-like lavatories (note the sarcasm). It was quite the initiation for Ashley, a first timer in Africa. And while I have been in Uganda once before I can honestly say that this experience was something completely new for me. I won't try to tell you that I was entirely comfortable where we stayed, but I know that if the chance was offered to do it again I would jump on it without hesitating. The smiles and singing voices and hugs and hand holds from the children and their parents made every second of our village stay worthwhile.
I would invite my readers to pray for the children and their families in the small villages that are the bulk of Uganda. We were in one village and reached out to one group of people, but there are so many more. We met orphaned children and deserted mothers and while I can't remember all their names I can remember their faces. They are happy people who love their Mzungu visitors, but few know the peace of salvation and even fewer know the comforts of stability and health.
We returned to the EAC house on Christmas Eve afternoon, relieved to return to the world of plumbing but very touched by everything we had seen and had been blessed to do. We were ready to spend a quiet Christmas day in the house and I was eager to get settled in and do some Christmas cooking!
This particular program was headed by a fellow MST (our short term missionary title) who had felt called to lead an outreach to a very needy village. Our team spent three days and two nights in the village, going to the heart of it every morning to visit with families, share the Gospel and the meaning of Christmas and to pray with and for the families. We were so blessed as to leave some small practical gifts with the neediest among them. We also held a program for the children in the afternoons, a time for fun and games and additional Bible stories. The children attended in mass quantities and hung on every word of the puppet shows that illustrated the Bible lesson. They loved their crafts and we were overjoyed to see several children still wearing their construction paper crowns when we drove through the village the next day.
Our hotel facility just outside the village was nothing short of five African stars, what with the Ugandan double bed and the spa-like lavatories (note the sarcasm). It was quite the initiation for Ashley, a first timer in Africa. And while I have been in Uganda once before I can honestly say that this experience was something completely new for me. I won't try to tell you that I was entirely comfortable where we stayed, but I know that if the chance was offered to do it again I would jump on it without hesitating. The smiles and singing voices and hugs and hand holds from the children and their parents made every second of our village stay worthwhile.
I would invite my readers to pray for the children and their families in the small villages that are the bulk of Uganda. We were in one village and reached out to one group of people, but there are so many more. We met orphaned children and deserted mothers and while I can't remember all their names I can remember their faces. They are happy people who love their Mzungu visitors, but few know the peace of salvation and even fewer know the comforts of stability and health.
We returned to the EAC house on Christmas Eve afternoon, relieved to return to the world of plumbing but very touched by everything we had seen and had been blessed to do. We were ready to spend a quiet Christmas day in the house and I was eager to get settled in and do some Christmas cooking!
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