home.

6.4.08

  When people asked me what I missed most since coming to Africa, I would reply, “I miss my family and friends…and, of course, American food!”  My three months in East Africa were absolutely incredible and indescribably life changing. As my stay in Uganda and Tanzania began to approach the final days, I looked forward to returning home to see my family and friends. However, I also came to realize that I would be leaving a second family behind. Prior to my trip, I expected to be able to meet many people and work with them, maybe creating relationships beyond acquaintances- hopefully some friendships. I never imagined that I would feel as though I had gained a dozen new brothers and sisters. I never imagined I would feel so at home so far away from America. 

My last days in Tanzania, I dreaded the moment I would have to part with the people of Africa I so deeply love. Early Monday morning, before any sunlight could peak over the horizon, Jed, Laura, and I followed the Ugandan team outside of our hostel where they bus would pick them up. The three of us would be flying out of Dar es Salaam the following day, but the rest of the Ugandan team was scheduled to take the two-day bus ride back to Kampala. Saying good-bye to Sarah, Ivan, Benon, Ronnie, Collin, Wilson, and Billy was literally the most difficult thing I had to do while I was in Africa. As I watched the bus pulled away, I felt my heart sinking and I was overwhelmed with sadness and a sense of emptiness. One moment, I was living, working, eating, traveling, and experiencing the world with the most incredible and loving people. The next, they were gone.

            I will never be able to express the impact these people and my experience in Africa has had on me. I feel so blessed to have spent three months in East Africa. I have seen so much, felt the LORD in new ways, and learned more than I could have ever imagined. I am forever in debt to the ICY team, for all it has done to open a whole new world to me and encourage positive change within myself. I have the deepest love for Uganda, the projects I was blessed to volunteer at, and the people who I consider to be my family. I pray that I can revisit someday. 

            I have returned to America, but a part of my heart remains at my second home in Africa.

 

* Thank you to all of you from ICY Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania, who have touched my heart and changed my life forever. I love you all.

logs.

5.28.08

My last week in Africa has been spent in the country of Tanzania where the ICY teams from all three East Africa countries- Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania- have come together to enjoy a time of fellowship, volunteer work, and worship with one another. Within our group, we represent eight countries- England, Australia, Germany, Canada, America, Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania. It is an incredible feeling to look around at our group serving in Dar es Salaam and reflect on how our common passion for volunteering in the name of the LORD has united us all in Africa.

One of the days this week we visited an orphanage just outside Dar es Salaam city hustle and bustle to contribute our efforts to a physically demanding task. Upon the arrival of our group in the morning, we visited with the children who call the orphanage their home, as we waited out a heavy rainstorm. When it had cleared up enough to work, our group of over 20 was led to a gigantic pile of logs and branches that remained after a large tree had been chopped up for fire wood.

Upon first glance, I was excited and ready to get my hands dirty. I watched one of the Ugandan volunteers, Benon, walk across the remains of the tree and toward the path which would lead us back to the orphanage campus. The thick piece of tree trunk he was carrying over his left shoulder didn’t look that big or heavy. …But then I attempted to lift up a section of the trunk myself. Each piece was made up of extremely dense wood, infested with aggressive biting red ants, and awkwardly shaped making it almost impossible to carry. Jen, a volunteer from Indiana working with the Tanzania team, and I decided to try to carry a section of the tree together. We lifted it up, then immediatley threw it back to the ground to attempt a different position which wouldn’t cause permanent damage to one of our backs! We counted to three and tried to lift it back up, struggling to maneuver it between the two of us, panting in frustrated exhaustion. How could this piece be so heavy? Everyone struggled to answer the same question, shocked by the misleading size and weight of the tree pieces. Jen and I probably took over 20 minutes to get our section of the tree to the pile outside one of the orphanage buildings. We literally tried every possible position to carry the piece between us and nothing was comfortable. We were forced to take many breaks, hurling the tree from our bodies where it would land with a solid thump. We were covered in mud, bruises, and scratches. We tried using banana leaves to create handles around the base of the second piece we battled with…there was no easy way of transporting the sections of branches and trunk. Everyone was putting forth all of their energy for this project, including the children from the orphanage.

I carried a long and solid branch with John from Oklahoma, who had come with the Kenya team. He and I struggled with the awkward size and shape, trying to keep it’s weight on our shoulders as one of us led the way. However, the sharp edges of splintered wood and extreme pain the weight exerted onto our shoulders caused us to stop several times along the long path to rest and regain strength. When we finally reached the destination of the fire wood pile, I confessed to John that the walk back to the pile of awaiting wood was most difficult for me.  While my hands were empty, each step I took closer to the pile was a step closer to carry another portion.

I later decided to try to carry individual sized sections of the tree. I was already exhausted from the few pieces I had helped transport earlier, but I wanted to contribute as much as I could to the cause. On maybe my third round working solo, I lifted a section of a solid branch, about a foot and a half in diameter and began the awful trek along the dirt path back to the orphanage. Not long into my walk, sweat was dripping into and burning my eyes. My body was trembling under the weight, and my shoulder was experiencing an excruciating sharp pain. I knew I couldn’t do it. Just as I was scoping out a place to hurl the log off my body, my friend Ronnie, one of the Uganda volunteers, came up behind me with a log on his head. “You’re doing well, Dani. Keep it up. You’re half way there.” His words of encouragement came just at the right time, and I continued to walk with the weight. I was panting heavily and wincing under the log. I was literally whimpering under the heavy mass and felt a wave of defeat. I had to drop it. Again, Ronnie, who had been walking silently beside me, voiced, “ You’ve got this, Dani. Keep going.” I had almost forgotten he was there. His words fueled my determination. I kept walking, doing my best to ignore the pain. Each step was tremendously difficult, and I was involuntarily moaning and vocally expressing my grief. I was in a mental debate every second, fighting the urge to quit. But Ronnie had again offered me encouragement, “You can see the end ahead now, Dani.” I couldn’t even comprehend making it to the end. But Ronnie stayed beside me, stride for stride. 50 steps. Even though I could visually see the firewood pile, I still felt defeated. 40 steps. It was too far. 30 steps I wasn’t even conscious of my strides at this point. 20 steps. The sweat continued to roll and accumulate at my nose and chin, where the droplets at my nose were blown off by my heavy exhaling. My eyes were tightly shut and I was almost wailing. I couldn’t do it. 10 steps. “Dani, you have come all this way. You are almost there. Look ahead!” Ronnie sped up as I did, anxious and desperate to get the tree off of me. My back and shoulders were in so much pain. My stomach was queasy and my legs were weak. 5 steps. I began to grasp the wood and prepare to expel it from my shoulders. 3 steps. I literally launched the wood into the air with a loud vocal exclaim, expressing my anguish. “You did it, Dani. You did it.” Ronnie dumped his log off his head into the pile. Being one of the last to carry a load, I immediately headed to the circle of people resting and cooling off by the water. One of the American volunteers poured me a glass of water, and I took it from him with my hands trembling. I watched pieces of dirt and bark fall from my hair into the glass, but proceeded to chug the water down. I sat down and breathed deeply to recover.

As I reflected on my experience and my encouragement from Ronnie, I thought about the way the LORD is beside us through our personal trials and challenges. The path to the end was long, and I was unable to see the final destination of the fire wood pile until I was very close. The burden of the weight on my shoulders was painful and defeating. Quitting seemed to be the only answer to find relief. But the moment I felt like giving up, Ronnie had offered support, reminding me that he was right beside me and giving verbal encouragement. He was there for me through the entire walk, and knew the exact moment that I needed extra support. The same occurs with our relationship with the LORD in a tough time. When we feel like giving up, when we lose our perseverance, the LORD offers a way to remind us of HiS love and support. GOD stays beside us always, no matter how difficult the time or how much pain we feel. HE is with us from the beginning through the end of a trail. Ronnie’s support that day helped me to overcome the sense of defeat, which continuously crept over me. I believed in his words and realize that I would not have been able to make it to the end without his encouragement. Ronnie not only helped me to endure such a physically and mentally challenge task, but also offered a visual analogy to remind me of the commitment the LORD has to staying by our side. 

junior.

5.17.08

The Empower A Child sponsorship program started by ICY’s Jen and Wilson had a meeting on Saturday at our compound. The sponsored children and their guardians were invited for breakfast and lunch, to follow up on the progress of the children’s school performance and needs, as well as write letters to the sponsors overseas.

Among the crowd of children was Junior and his grandmother. I had first met Kabugo Junior Charles a few weeks prior at the Compassion International week-long program. He had been in a small group with Benon, Sarah, and me. When the kids of Compassion started writing their response letters to their sponsors, Sarah and I noticed that Junior had no letter in his hand. Instead, the small twelve year old boy was walking around the other students and helping them write their letters, correcting grammar and suggesting topics to write. Sarah and I asked Benon why he was not working on his own letter, to which we learned that he was not sponsored since he was a bit too old to be enrolled into the program. I was upset to know that such a bright boy would be denied the opportunity to go to school because of his age. He was so well-mannered and clever…how could someone refuse him the right to feed his mind just because he lacked the financial ability to pay his school fees? I literally viewed it as a crime. There must be some way to find him a sponsor.

After one of the Ugandan ICY volunteers researched his situation, Ivan reported back to Empower A Child about Junior. Unlike many sponsorship organizations, Empower A Child has no restriction on age. As long as a child is in need and has the desire to further his education, EAC will give the opportunity of sponsorship to the child.

I considered the situation. If I did not buy a new sweater one month, or passed on a few restaurant meals, or even cut down on my use of gasoline, I could pay for Junior to go to school each day. I prayed about it and pondered about my own future resources, and decided that it was important for me to know Junior was fueling his passion for knowledge. Such a small amount of money that I would spend at an American mall without considering its true potential…and yet, it literally held the promise that a Ugandan child could attend class.  

Ivan and I had gone to the place where Junior stayed with his grandmother a couple weeks prior to the meeting. We had hiked up a very steep and high hill for about fifteen minutes. I tried to imagine the children who lived at the top walking all the way up the path which was too steep for even boda bodas and other vehicles to drive up. Ivan explained to me as we panted up the hill that there are a lot of rocks located around there area, so many orphaned and homeless children move to the hill to perform heavy labor, crushing the rocks to gravel which brings in the smallest income.

A nearby church provided the home where Junior and about eight others stay with only two rooms about 11 x 11 feet. Their house had caved in several years ago, and they had no place to live. Ivan and I entered through the door, which immediately almost brought us to the opposite wall. In the first room, which was so dark that it took my eyes several minutes to adjust and see that the room was crowded with what little furniture they had, there was someone sleeping a few feet away from me on a mattress. We talked with Junior, his grandmother, and some of his aunts and cousins as to discussed his background. Before Junior’s second birthday, both of his parents had passed away from HIV/AIDS. Junior’s maternal grandmother and aunt have been raising him ever since, and he had not been told that his aunt was not his biological mother, as he had believed, until only a few years ago. To learn so late that he was an orphan had really traumatized him, and his aunt explained to us that he didn’t begin to interact and act as lively again until recently when he participated in Sunday school and other activities.

I took some time to speak with Junior and asked him about his favorite things to do, his favorite sports and which team he supports, and what he wanted to be when he grew up. He explained he had a love for science and wanted to help people as a doctor some day. I was so encouraged and told him that I fully believed he could become a doctor, if that was what he wanted. Though he seemed a bit shy and kept his head down, he lifted up his face, smiled at me, and nodded slightly.

After our time visiting, Junior and two of his younger cousins walked to the end of the property with us. Since Junior would be required to attend the Empower A Child meeting, I told him I was looking forward to seeing him again.

When he had arrived to the Empower A Child meeting on Saturday, I cheerfully watched him run around with the other kids and smile brightly. He raced around the compound, with broken sandals about 6 sizes too large for him. Sarah went into a storage where ICY collects donated items and found a pair of Velcro sandals that looked about his size. We called Junior into the house to present the sandals and hoped they would fit. They fit him well, and he started down at them for several moments before excitedly raising his head back up and exclaiming “Thank you!” He ran to his grandmother to show him, and she was so grateful. She told Sarah that she had been trying to figure out a way to save money to purchase a pair of shoes for him. His grandmother is the only financial resource for the household, cooking at for Compassion International programs every Saturday for 5,000 shillings. With only a 20,000 shilling [about 15 dollars] income a month, it seemed impossible for her to save.

At lunch time, Junior and I sat in lawn chairs, across from each other as we ate rice and beans. He had so much more energy and joy at that time, compared to when I had first met him at the Compassion International program. I told him stories about America, and I joked with him about how I will miss eating Chapatti so much when I go home, that I am going to try to make it myself! He laughed at the idea of me trying to make the snack. He talked about his favorite football team, Manchester United, and his younger cousin who is sick with Typhoid. It was so much fun to trade stories and see how alive and enthusiastic Junior was in telling his stories.  The time I had to talk with Junior and teach him and the other children games flew by in the afternoon. Before Junior left, I hugged his grandmother and thanked her for coming, and took a picture with Junior.

I truly believe GOD placed Junior in my life. He has been a blessing to me and I am thrilled to be a support to such an incredible boy. His enthusiasm for learning and his mature behavior makes me so proud of him. He has been through so much, and I praise the LORD for protecting him and guiding. When I came to Africa, I never imagined that I would enroll into a sponsorship program, but I see the way the past few weeks have played out and how GOD has worked throughout the time. I am blessed, and I want to pass along my love for CHRiST and for others.

I have had a unique opportunity to build a relationship in person with the student I will sponsor. I know of many people, including each of my parents, who sponsor children through other programs. I know that it means so much to receive letters and pictures from the child whom they sponsor, and I do not take for granted the opportunity I have had to spend time with Junior. 

Through working with both Compassion International and Empower A Child, I have seen the way that sponsorship changes lives. When I return home, I know that I will be an ambassador for this cause, and encourage people I know to be blessed and to bless others through sponsoring a child.

 

To find out more information on sponsoring a child, visit www.empower-a-child.org

“hit the bottle.”

5.15.08

Jed, Laura, and I will be departing Africa from Tanzania in just a few weeks, so our last visit in Uganda to Remand Juvenile Home was this week. When we arrived, a tiny boy no older than a second grader was sitting on the ground in the outside classroom across from where all the other residents were seated. As we waited in the other outside classroom for the academic lecture to wrap up, the curious boy came over to us and sat down on the bench beside Jed. According to what he told Wilson, he had come to Remand after riding into town on the back of a truck. I introduced my camera to him and watched in amazement at how entertained he was, as well as how young. Such a tiny boy in a juvenile prison seemed to be an abnormal situation to find. 

            Billy led worship songs with his guitar, as we all settled into the larger classroom several minutes later. The room erupted with singing voices, clapping, and stomping. From the front of the room, I looked out into the sea of faces, and considered how some falsely believe that their backgrounds have determined their future. When there was some quiet time to reflect, the ICY team members walked around the room to offer support and prayer. One young man in particular was located in the very back corner, just behind a broken metal table frame. I approached him, laid my hand on his stiffened shoulder, and asked him if I could pray for him. He nodded his head and I asked if there was something in particular he wanted me to talk with GOD about for him. While he had barely any expression on his face, the tone of his voice indicated his vulnerability. He began to spill out stories and words expressing how he feels lost and alone as an orphan. He continued to explain how he willingly attends the worship services at Remand and enjoys the time, but has many questions about the LORD and his faith. As I prayed for him, speaking slowly and cautiously annunciating every word so that my speaking would not be hidden behind my American accent, I felt his shoulders loosen up a bit under my hand. After I finished my prayer, his entire stance had gone from stiff and defensive to a relaxed posture. He asked me if I would be back to Remand, and I told him that I would be leaving for Tanzania in the next week, then returning to America from there. I told him that ICY would continue to visit and would be happy to act as a resource for him. I smiled at him and patted his back as I ensured him that he would be able to speak with some of the volunteers in the future. His face maintained a shielding expression, but just as I began to walk back toward the front of the classroom, he flashed a slight smile, just enough to notice the hope within him.

            So many of these kids have had such rough backgrounds, but when we visit them in Remand and lead worship, games, and skits, there really is no indication that they are juvenile prisoners, except for the bars and wires surrounding the compond. They laugh and smile during our skits, anxiously raise their hands to participate in group discussions, competitively and comically play games and show off…just like any teenager would do.

            Before performing a skit, everyone gathered into the dirt-covered courtyard to watch about ten boys play a game appropriately called “Hit the Bottle”. With five players on one side, and another five across on the other, Wilson would yell out a number. With the shout of “Two!”, a player from each side with that identity would run across the court yard to a flip flop sandal and chuck it to the center of the field to attempt to knock over the bottle of water. If they missed, they would race to the other side, pick up sandal along the way, then throw it back to the target. Once on of the players knocked over the water bottle, they would return to their designated sides, and wait for the next identity number to trigger another round with two new players. It was so much fun to watch the kids cheering and laughing, and their energy wove throughout the crowd. All the Ugandan ICY volunteers recruited Jed, Laura, and I to play on a team. Benon took our bags and cameras to keep them safe so that we may fully commit to the game. I was a bit nervous about understanding the rules, but my competitive side took over and I was ready to go. I waited anxiously for my number to be called, and screamed encouragement to my teammates who were racing back and forth. After Jed returned to our side and we waited for the next number, I geared up and was completely ready to tear across the courtyard.

Just then, however, a giant tidal wave of water ripped through our line-up, followed by several more. Before we had time to react, Jed, Laura, and I were soaked. The entire Remand Juvenile Home and Ugandan ICY volunteers had set us up! As part of their send-off, the Remand kids showered us with basins of water. As Jed, Laura, and I stood in the center of the courtyard, abandoned by everyone else, we laughed and squeezed out access water from our hair and clothing. I looked around to see ecstatic faces, all the Remand kids were roaring with laughter. They were so delighted in successfully pulling off their prank, and the reaction highlighted how similar they are to any other teenager. A few of the teens sweetly gestured to take our sandals and shoes to the waterspout, where they cleaned off all the mud.

When we had wrapped up our session, I went around and shook hands with some of the teens, smiling and saying good-bye. While it was just a prank, I felt honored that the Remand community took the time to plot out a send-off for Jed, Laura, and me. It was their way of showing that they cared about the relationship we had with them, and that they had embraced our time there. While we walked through the gated door at the entry to leave, I took a final glance back and waved to Remand Home. I pray for all the teens who are currently there, and for their futures; that they make positive choices and pursue their dreams when they are released back into the outside community.

 

braids.

5.9.08

To my delight, many of the children at Kyambogo Church whom I had met through the Compassion International program last week came to participate in the “Glory to Glory” conference this past week at the same location. I had the opportunity to volunteer in the Children’s Wing, along with a few other ICY international volunteers.  Throughout the week, we led bible studies, games, songs, and other activities with the children. Thursday, as nervous as I was to speak to a large elementary-aged crowd, I had been asked to deliver a short message. The entire week was so much fun to spend time with the children and get to know each one better.

             On Friday, the closing day, we spent the morning following the scheduled routine. After the songs and prayers had concluded, there seemed to be some free time. While I am not certain how it started, all the children divided among the four ICY American volunteers and began to braid our hair. Laura, Jen, and I sat in lawn chairs scattered throughout the gymnasium, and even Jed’s long hair was fascinating to all the kids. As the students between ages 7 and 12 hovered over us and braided strands of our hair, I smiled and laughed at the scene. Half a dozen children had divided my hair up into variously sized locks, and they announced the names of the different “saloons” each of the ICY volunteers were currently located. The enthusiasm they had to create various styles of thick braids, small braids, many braids, one massive braid, was entertaining to observe. I felt so blessed throughout the week to spend time with the children, and I was excited to see how thrilled and amused they were to style our hair during the final session of the last day.

            I believe that I sometimes do not fully comprehend the significance that the ICY program has on the community by which it is surrounded. While I sat patiently for about 30 minutes, groups of children exchanged smiles and excited chatter about the “Mzungu” hair styles they had created. While I hardly put in any effort to sit in a chair and allow children to display their creativity, it seemed to be the highlight to their entire day. I am continuing to learn how it is the simplest acts that make the most impact. …Braids. Braids in my hair. It seems so silly to think that woven hair can bring so much joy to a child. That day, I left in the late afternoon, waving good-bye to some of my favorite little kids at Kyambogo, and walked down the dirt road with a trendy new hairstyle. 

sunglasses.

5.6.08

It took a wildly winding matatu taxi van ride, a long wait in the taxi park for the connecting bus to fill up with passengers prior to departure, a slight delay to rearrange travel plans resulting from the missed bus stop, and an improvised boda boda ride to get us to our destination. Almost two hours from the time Felicity, Jen, and I left our ICY house in Ntinda, we were finally walking up to the gate of “Need for All” orphanage. Tucked away off a remote dirt road is a humble residential house that cares for ten children between the ages of one and a half and seven.  As we entered through the metal gate and into the front yard, a small crowd of young children came racing out of the house and jumped into our arms or wrapped themselves around our legs. Jen and Felicity had been active in volunteering at “Need for All” in the past, but this was my first visit. It didn’t matter to the children, however, that I was a complete stranger. They treated me equally to Felicity and Jen right from the start, grabbing for my hands and demanding my attention.

The children who live there come from some very traumatic backgrounds. The only two girls each represent heart-breaking stories. The police brought in one little girl after it was discovered that her father raped her when she was six months old. The other small girl with a bright smile had been discovered cast away in a ditch, where ants were eating away at her wounds. Many of these children have come from tough situations at home, facing so much suffering and strain even before their second birthdays, but from the sound of jubilant squeals and laughter, I could tell upon entering how the love and tenderness of “Need for All” presented an opportunity for happiness and healing from the past.

When we walked in, I sat down on a wooden bench within the entry room and a small and fragile boy quietly approached me without me even realizing it. He was so quiet as he moved over toward me that I did not notice he was in front of me until he was in the process of trying to climb into my lap. I picked him up and positioned him on my legs, smiling and greeting him in Luganda. He buried his head into my stomach and rested quietly. As all the other children ran back and forth through the house, pulling Jen and Felicity by their hands, Peter and I sat quietly on the bench. I picked him up after a few minutes, and walked with him into one of the bedrooms full of bunk beds to see what the other children were doing. The energy of the little ones didn’t keep them in one location for long, so Peter and I sat back out in the living room and watched Jen and Felicity run with a small crowd in and out of the different rooms. Peter spoke so softly and whimpered as he buried his head back into my stomach. I wasn’t really sure how to comfort him. I asked Felicity if he normally acted shy and sleepy, and she thought he must not have been feeling well. Since everyone had made their way back outside to the front yard to play, I picked up Peter as slowly and gently as I could and found a place to sit on the porch. With my back against the wall and my legs stretched out, Peter positioned himself on his belly, and laid parallel on top of my legs. He hid his head back into my stomach and whined quietly. I tried to stoke his head to calm him down. Feeling a slight sense of panic, I continued to ask Felicity for advise on how to make him more comfortable, but she shrugged her shoulders with a worried expression and commented on how he is usually much happier and energetic.

As other children scurried around outside and across the porch where Peter and I were sitting, one little one approached me and pointed to my sunglasses. I took them off and placed them on his tiny face and then took a picture. He delighted in seeing himself in the shades, and I laughed with him as he stared at the image. Peter had been watching this scene and his eyes expressed the desire to have the sunglasses on his face as well. I gently lifted him off my legs and was careful to place the sunglasses tenderly upon his tiny head. Immediately he lit up and giggled and energy seemed to flood his body. I snapped a photograph of him wearing the shades and showed it to him. Peter’s bright smile spread across his face and I could see how amused he was to recognize himself with a big pair of sunglasses in the camera’s display screen.

Something about wearing those sunglasses transformed Peter. He exploded with life, and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. I will never know what it was about the sunglasses that created a whole new outlook on the day for Peter, but I thank GOD for the blazing sun that encouraged me to run back into the house before we left and get my sunglasses!

compassion.

5.4.08

“Praise be to the GOD and FATHER of our LORD JESUS CHRiST, the FATHER of compassion and the GOD of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble…” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

  This past week, our team had helped out at a day camp program put on for students within the Compassion International sponsorship organization. Since the students had several weeks off from school, all those in the Kyambogo neighborhood, who are supported by sponsors partnered with the organization, were present.

Each day, children as young as four and up through their final year in high school came to play games, worship the LORD in songs, listen to speakers, eat breakfast and lunch, study the bible, and spend time with friends. Many of the ICY Ugandan volunteers were once sponsored through Compassion International, and now help to lead small groups, as well as organize the events for the next generation of sponsored children. It was incredible to be able to experience the power of Compassion International and gain insight to such an important part of the lives of my friends. As I ran around outside with the kids, I tried to picture ICY Uganda’s director Wilson, and volunteers, Ivan, Benon, Ronnie, Abraham, and Douglas as small boys running around on the same patch of grass. Today, these young men are so committed to sharing GOD’s love with others and contributing their time and efforts to help other people. Compassion International’s significant impact shaped them to be who they are now, and I was so enthusiastic and encouraged to think about the potential of the next Compassion generation.

            Sarah, the ICY administrator, and I joined a small group of elementary aged children [in the morning session] and high school teenagers [in the afternoon session] led by Benon. Spending the week with these students, I was inspired by how intelligent and enthusiastic they are about learning. The kids are so bright, and I am grateful to know that they all have their potential fed through the opportunity to attend school. Literally, if not for families and individuals financially supporting these students, they would be unable to afford the school fees to receive an education. I was overwhelmed on the Friday, when all the students at all grade levels joined together in one room to celebrate the week-long program. I looked through the room at a sea of smiling and energetic Ugandan faces, and reflected on how many families and individuals from across the globe were represented.

The compassion of people who have the ability to sponsor a child deeply reflects the love and grace of GOD. As the LORD blesses us, we are able to pass that blessing forward and make an impact on another’s life-even across the world. I witnessed the joy spread across a child’s face as he was passed a letter from his sponsor family, sharing how they love him, pray for him, and how special he is to them. Ivan and Benon had both talked with me about how their relationship with their sponsor through letters has encouraged them. They both recognize that a complete stranger had decided to give through Compassion International, providing them with an academic education, supplies, and outside-classes, which highlighted life skills. As they spoke about how much their sponsor meant to them, their dazzling facial expressions and emphasized hand gestures displayed how powerful that relationship had been to their life. The appreciation they have for their sponsors is so immense, and I wish that I could write to their sponsors to explain to them how incredible these two young men are and how proud they should be of Benon and Ivan.

The Compassion International sponsorship program truly is helping a young generation of children around the world to develop into future leaders. ICY’s Jen and Wilson hope to grow their beginning organization, Empower A Child, to be just as significant. As I have seen first hand the impact of a sponsorship program, I want to encourage people who have already committed or are yet to commit to sponsoring a child. These programs are absolutely making a difference in the lives of the children, which I am confident will eventually and directly effect us in a positive way as these leaders grow and take the world into their own hands. GOD is the FATHER of compassion, and HE allows for us to also share that compassion. It is compassion one has for another, displayed through the gift of support and love, that comforts those in need and encourages them through the future. 

loving JESUS.

 4.27.07

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

             The above passage is taken from the 25^th chapter of Matthew, as JESUS is teaching on comforting and providing for others. HE is sharing that feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, inviting a stranger into one’s home, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, and visiting those in prison are not only acts of kindness and love for those people, but also righteous acts directly reflected to CHRiST HiMSELF.

            Sunday afternoon, I had an opportunity to visit a prison just outside of Kampala. Having no prior experience in entering an adult prison, I was a bit nervous to go into the facility. Daniel, however, is very committed to prison ministries in Canada, so he was very comfortable with the idea. Also, Herman, one of the Ugandans who volunteers with ICY, often spends time outreaching to men and women in local prisons. By no means was I worried or frightened, but it was my lack of confidence in being able to relate to the people that troubled me. With Daniel and Herman’s experiences to support our cause, and the above bible verse in the front of my mind, I felt more comfortable about the visit.

            I was very surprised when we arrived to the facility. No more than some shrubbery and a line of barbed wire serve to maintain the boundaries between the outdoor courtyard of the prison and the outside world. A guard let us in through the large metal door and we walked across the dirt-covered courtyard to the long and narrow slab of raised concrete in front of the large holding cell, which seemed to only be divided into thirds. The prisoners were all seated and lined up, crowded into several rows. They were passing clothing along in a great bundle as we took our seats in the three chairs they provided us. It seemed that some did not have any clothes at all, and that perhaps the provided clothing would only be temporarily worn. Some of the men held large, broken and cracked jugs where they took sips of water, and passed it along to their neighbors. Few had shoes, and the clothing they all wore was tattered and faded. Adjacent to the holding cell was a small, open structure where dark smoke poured out and across the courtyard. I struggled to breath through the thick air, littered with ash, and my eyes burned from the fire of that kitchen.

            Herman spent several minutes addressing the men in Luganda, and I waited patiently for Daniel and I to introduce ourselves. When Herman called me forward to speak, I could feel the intensity of all the eyes directed at me. I smiled and spoke slowly, making sure to pronunciate all my words so that my brief message would not be lost from my American accent. Once Daniel and I had the opportunity to say who we are, Herman began to lead the men in song. Even the few women in the prison joined in, singing Luganda lyrics from the corner of the courtyard. I enjoyed seeing some of the men, who had looked tired and empty upon our arrival, sit up a bit straighter to clap and sway to the music of their voices.

            Daniel spoke to the audience using relevant stories and bible verses to encourage and comfort them all. It is my understanding that all of them have sentences less than three years, many probably serving time for stealing food to feed their families. I watched the faces of the men listening to Herman interpret Daniel’s words, and saw the hope and relief glowing in their eyes. With Daniel’s closing prayer, it was evident from the positive and energetic responses how much of an impact the visit had been.

            Before we left, Herman led Daniel and I walked over to the handful of women seated on the ground, who had been timidly watching from the corner of the courtyard. As they exchanged words in Luganda with Herman, I looked down at each of the women. Their faces were smeared with sadness, and their dark eyes immediately darted to the ground every time they looked up at me. Herman told Daniel and I that many of them had children at home, with no parents and no funds to support them. The children of some of the women were ill, and several of the women themselves were sick. Herman asked if we would like to pray for the women, so I knelt down on the dirt beside the women. I smiled and looked them all in the eyes before I began to pray out loud for their needs and for their comfort.

            When our visiting time frame came to an end, we walked back across the courtyard to the entrance. I reflected on Matthew 25. While a short visit with the people in the prison seemed like such a small act, its impact was great. The men and women inside the prison’s walls have so many needs, are ill, without clothing, and separated from their children who now live alone. They are viewed so lowly by society and have little interaction with outside visitors. But they are GOD’s children. They are loved by CHRiST, despite what they have done in the past. And showing love to each man and woman inside that prison is showing love to whom they belong. It is showing love to JESUS. 

african ambiance.

4.26.08

With so many different scenes and situations I experience everyday in Uganda, I find it appropriate to attempt to create a brief list to more deeply capture life in Africa to my friends and family at home. The small details of living here are often the most impressive contrasts to my home life in America’s western culture. As these events, sights, and routines weave themselves into my current lifestyle, I wish to fully embrace it all…

-I have finally gotten into the necessary habit of handing over my grocery receipt to a security guard at the exit door to confirm my purchase, even as minuscule as a candy bar.

-Regularly, I am tossed about like a rag doll, occasionally be walloped against the vehicle window, as our van drives over the rough terrain of deep potholes and rocks in the African dirt streets.

- Small neighborhood Ugandan children dash toward me to grab my hand or give me a hug, while screaming “Mzungu!”

-Traffic is intense and chaotic, as hundreds of matatus [taxi vans] dart through vehicles and pull over to load people beyond the 14 persons capacity. Generally, it is crowded to the point where passengers must sit upon the laps of a stranger.

-I enjoy the luxury of having a french pedicure for less than the value of one US dollar from the comfort of our driveway curb. Men walk by on the streets with caddies full of nail polish and other pampering tools, ready to stop when we call one over to beautify our feet or hands.

- Power outages are frequent, lasting for hours or days at a time, due to the lack of electrical resources to go around the entire city of Kampala.

-My favorite snacks to purchase from street vendors are roasted plantains and the masterpiece of a rolex [egg and vegetables grilled as an omlet, rolled up within a chipati]

-Men walk up steep hills, pushing their bikes loaded with dozens of plastic yellow jerry cans of water.

- To light our house gas oven, I timidly assume a defensive position, awaiting the fire explosion to signify it is ready to bake. My right arm has little arm hair remaining, after most has been singed off!

-In bed, I fall asleep to the eclectic soundtrack of urban nighttime: shattering glass, thumping music, aggressive cats hissing, and stray dogs howling or violently challenging one another.

-I have given up on trying to predict the weather here. The rainy season consisting of gloomy, sopping wet mornings to contrast with bright, sunny afternoons, or vise versa.

-It is routine to boil tap water every day, cool it off, and pour it into large jugs for our source of drinking water.

- I miss washing machines, as hand washing and rinsing with basins of water really tries my patience.

-Our water source occasionally shuts off, blessing me with the opportunity to bathe using a cup and basin of water.

-I enjoy the busyness and overwhelming amount of vegetables, fruits, and meats when I shop with Sarah at the street markets.

-Women working or walking in town tie traditionally patterned fabric around their waist to secure their babies, who are tightly folded and piggy-backing on their mothers.

- If the van we travel in stops for a moment in a small town, street vendors rush to our vehicle, open the windows, and shove sticks of meat, bottles of water, and other snacks directly into our face. Sometimes I find it convenient; other times, a burden.

- There is a light covering of red dirt on everything I own by the end of the day.
- I thought the post office lines in America were frustrating to stand in- until I have spent 2-3 hours of my day waiting to claim my packages, and moving from one station to another to have various information about each one hand-recorded.

- The sunlight shines fiercely on the hills of Kampala, and the colors of the nature and homes atop each stand out against a brilliant blue sky.

- Geckos and small lizards dash across the walls of our compound, as well as within my bedroom.

- The loud racket of the Reverend Crows perched on top of our roof often act as my morning alarm clock.

-It is convenient to sit down at an outdoor restaurant serving traditional Ugandan food, as there is no need for a menu. The items to chose from are absolutely predictable, and the meal is at a cheap and flat rate, no matter the amount of food I order.

-School children are identifiable by their tall grey socks with red and yellow stripes around the top. Additionally, they wear uniforms color-coded to their particular school.

My time in Uganda continues to bring about new scenes and customs, which differ so much from what I have become accustomed to at my home in America. However, every day I feel a growing appreciation for the African culture and my experience here.

braces and bandages.

4.23.08

Katalemwa Cheshire Home in Uganda is a specialized hospital/rehabilitation center for children to live, and who are brought there to receive medical care from as far away as Congo. Many of the children have deformed limbs or faces, some have evidence of deep tissue burns, and others have a mental disability diagnosis. On Wednesday mornings, our ICY team spends a couple hours in a crowded classroom to lead songs, tell bible stories, and assist with arts and crafts.
The first time I walked into the compound about four weeks ago, I was taken aback by the children, some as young as three years old, struggling to walk with tiny wooden crutches. The sight of a small child limping in pain, with a metal brace extending from the interior of her leg, upset me. A boy who looked about six years old waved slowly and shyly to me from his little wheelchair. While I waved back, I hid behind my smile, unable to handle the sadness within his large, mocha eyes. When we walked into the classroom, there was already a small group of children waiting for us. So many had metal braces fastened through their skin, securing the bones in their deformed and broken limbs. The casts on the legs of a few girls sitting at the table were dirty and tearing off, and their dresses were tattered with lace trim dangling from the hem of their necklines. As more children hobbled into the room, some being held up by other children with casts or missing limbs, I struggled to take in the entire scene. The pain read on their faces. My eyes caught a little girl’s face wince as she tried to bend herself to sit on the wooden bench, using her hands to adjust her weak leg which was encaged by a metal brace. I didn’t know if I would be able to put aside the disturbed feelings in order to lead our program. However, as Ivan, Benon, Billy, and a few others of the local Ugandan volunteers began to sing a song, the room transformed. The children began to sway to the music, clap to the beat, and beam with excitement. Even the staff members at Katelemwa poked their heads through the open windows to watch and clap with the rest of the room. My nervous and upset feelings disappeared as joy rushed over me. I was astonished and delighted to see the room full of smiles. It was so simple- it took a song and silly dancing from our team to shift the concentration of the Katalemwa children from their pain to happiness.
Still slightly reserved, I clapped and sang to the Luganda lyrics in a back corner. Not long into the time we were there, however, a tiny and frail girl with lime green shorts walked over to me. She looked up at me with her bright brown eyes and the sweetest smile, and took hold of my right hand with her left. Her oversized pink tank top was too wide to keep both straps on her shoulder, so much of her little chest and stomach was exposed. I smiled down at her, and noticed that on her other side, a soiled bandage covered her entire hand, yet the deep tissue burn scars extended up to her shoulder. She seemed to be so overtaken with the music, swaying her hips and bouncing on her toes, she didn’t even notice anything else. I continued to smile down and watch her, and she giggled when I began to gently swing her unharmed hand. That was the final reminder I needed about why I have come to Africa and why I love to spend my time volunteering and working with people. God provided me with a small, yet significant gesture to reassure me in a time of doubt and worry.
Now, going to Katelemwa is one of my favorite projects to be able to contribute to during the week. While I will feel sadness when I concentrate on the pain and challenges that children so young and innocent face, I leave that reaction behind and rejoice in the energy that erupts in the classroom when Sam begins to strum his guitar, Ivan acts out a skit, or when we pass out crafts to help the children create. These children so look forward to the time visitors come to play with them and provide entertainment, but I think I may look forward to it even more!

rakai.

4.17.08

Three hours outside of Kampala, and across the Equator, is a small village in Southern Uganda called Rakai. It is said that Rakai is the location of the first reported case of AIDS, and the disease continues to devastate the village. Our ICY team of 15 stayed in the town part of the area for three nights and four days, to contribute our time and efforts to a local family. From where we stayed at the Send-a-Cow center, an organization which helps provide the village families with livestock to sustain their finances, we had to drive about 45 minutes deep into jungle, excluded from most of society.
There, a small house made of mud and reed was suffering from the wear of time and weather, forcing the orphaned teenage boys to sleep in the goat coral at night when it rained. We arrived the first day in the late afternoon to scope out the area and lay out our plans for a brand new house, which we would help build the following few days. Many of the village children, curious from our taxi van driving through, had followed us to the site. As I attempted to go visit with some and maybe play a game with them, several darted away, intimidated by my white skin. I tried to walk a little further toward them, but they ran further. It took a few brave children to slap or shake my hand before the rest were able to approach me. As many of the ICY team members consulted with the two boys about the plans for the new house, I attempted to teach the children some clapping rhythm games. The children were so sweet and shy, but I was hopeful that they may warm up to me throughout my time there.
Our first full day on the worksite was partially put on hold, as the best of the rainy season spoiled our ability to dig in the mud. I helped two village women prepare lunch with Grace, Amanda, Sarah, and Felicity. My biggest contribution, however, was breaking open bean sprouts. I have a lot to learn about African food preparation, still!
I continued to try and play with the village children, and some gained enough courage to sit beside me on the pile of tree trunks, which would eventually serve as the solid framing structure of the house.
We were able to fully dig all the holes in the ground to raise the tree trunks in the ground and nail the base of the roof together.
The following day, rain continued to threaten our progress, but only lasted through late morning. With most of the tree trunks in place, the Ugandan Volunteers of ICY began to dig a trench and mix the mud, stomping their bare feet around to create the necessary consistency. So, I decided that there was no better way to get an authentic African construction experience than removing my shoes and socks as well and leaping into the huge channel of mud myself. All the Ugandans cheered to see a “mzungu” girl getting right into the middle of all the work, and I had an absolute blast plunging my feet up and down into the rocky soil and stream water. It is a very physically demanding process, with sharp stones jabbing and slices open ankles and feet, but I was determined to help get the progress as far along as possible. The two young men had lost both parents to AIDS and had so much hope for the future. I was so inspired by their hard work and desire to succeed in their goals, that the burden of intense heat, lack of water, and sore muscles was irrelevant.
In the afternoon, with mud caked and dried up to my mid-calves and speckled over my entire body, I helped Ivan and Benon, two ICY volunteers, measure and cut more tree branches and trucks. I have been on so many construction-focused service trips throughout my college career, but my experience building a mud house in a Ugandan village was so different. The tools and methods are simplified by the limited supplies, and a lot more patience is involved. While we were not able to finish the house, we had finished all the stages of building that required a large team of people. Some of the ICY volunteer guys told me that the two boys working alone could finish the house within about four more days. I felt a bit sad to leave the site for the last time, as the experience of the construction work, taking pictures of the children and playing games with them had been so much fun. It am so grateful for the opportunity to have made a positive impact on the small family, and hope their new home will bring them comfort and happiness.
The village had really embraced us, especially evident on our last day when we went around to different homes to visit with the people. I had been teamed up with Sarah and Benon, and the first home we went to was a small one-room structure, where an elderly women was tucked under a colorful wrap, and crying out to us in Luganda. She had lost one of her daughters to AIDS a few days prior, which, unfortunately, was not the first time she had to bury one of her children. She had over a dozen grandchildren orphaned from their parents dying of AIDS. We attempted to bring her comfort in speaking with her, and she asked for us to pray for her strength. Her small, frail hand help on to mine for some time, and she would look at me with desperate eyes while crying out load. While I could not verbally communicate to her, I gently rubbed her hand and tried to express my sympathy to her with my eyes. It was heartbreaking to hear her weeping, and see the tears streaming down her face. I had never seen the devastation and pain associated with AIDS so up close before this experience.
The other homes we visited were not as emotionally difficult to take in, and I was astonished at how welcoming the villagers were to three strangers. I wondered if the other teams of people were able to visit with other homes with the same hospitality. One woman we visited was so excited to have a “mzungu” in her home and asked me to take her back to America with me. While I am only able to handle the most basic of conversations using Luganda, she seemed delighted to hear me speak in her language, giggling as I thanked her in Luganda when she handed me tea and boiled yams.
Our time in Rakai revealed so much of Africa’s culture and history, as well as its suffering. Being able to contribute to the construction of the mud house and visit with local village people was an authentic experience, which has added to the understanding of Uganda I continue to build upon each day.

safari.

4.12.08

In Swahili, the word “safari” translates as “adventure”. And my experience at Murchison Falls National Park was definitely nothing short of an incredible adventure. However, I don’t believe it would ever be possible to capture the beauty and majesty of the African land using words. Even my photographs of the rich African land seem to lack the exquisiteness of Uganda’s nature. However, as challenged as I feel to describe it, I must attempt to share about my incredible three-day experience on a safari.
Within two days of a thirty-four year old Canadian volunteer arriving to the ICY house, Daniel was thrown into the East African experience on a long drive to the Northwest corner of Uganda for a safari adventure with Laura, Jed, Wilson, Collin, Jen, and me. Wilson not only acts as the director for ICY Uganda, but has also started up his own safari company, View Africa, which sends a portion of the profits of his work back into the ministry and volunteer funds.
After a six hour ride to the entrance of Murchison Falls National Park, we were able to pop up the top of the safari van, which allowed us to stand within the vehicle, and sit on top of the front and back roof. I sat on the front roof with Collin, which was exhilarating and nerve-wrecking, as I clasped my hands as tightly as I could to the top rack and balanced myself on such a small space. I considered that the only thing keeping me from flying forward off the roof and into the direct path of the speeding van was my grip, which encouraged me to squeeze my hands even tighter around the rail. With the wind whipping into my face and hair, and the sun beating down onto a gorgeous 360 degree view, I was in complete awe of the scenery. That is, until a swarm of tsetse flies fully attacked us, biting us and creating a dark cloud above our van. The driver raced out of the area so we would be safe from the insects who carry sleeping sickness.
As we drove deeper into the jungle, we saw monkeys swinging from branches over the dirt road, and slowed down to observe their playful character. It is such a different experience to see wildlife in its natural habitat rather than a zoo where I would have only had opportunity to watch such creatures before. I snapped my Nikon lens rapidly, trying to catch as many pictures as possible. Our drive to the safari camp ground took around two hours, as we stopped to observe more monkeys, water buffalo, antelope, and flocks of birds. Every now and then there were dense patches of brilliant colors dancing over the ground, as the butterflies fluttered above the grass. It was absolutely breath taking.
When we reached Red Chili Camp Ground, I was a bit taken aback by the warthogs, which lazily snored along the cabins and sidewalks, unmindful of the people busily walking past. Upon our evening arrival, our group took a walk down to Lake Albert where we watched hippopotami dunking their heads in and out of the water, creating ripples that reflected the setting sun in the purple sky. We had dinner at the camp ground outdoor lounge, which overlooked the Nile from the cliff, before going to bed early.
Our ‘game ride’ was scheduled for early morning the following day, allowing for us to watch the sun rise from the ferry, which transported our safari van across Lake Albert. We drove around the Safari Park all morning, traveling through prairie, forest, and jungle landscapes. The dark purple and gray clouds separated enough for the sun to peek through, highlighting the rich green, gold, and bronze shades of the land. Around a waterhole, we stopped to watch water buffalo sipping up last night’s rain, with small bright white birds perched on their backs. We came across giraffes with extravagantly long necks, more beautiful in person than I had anticipated, speckled with chocolate and chestnut colored splotches. They were curious and playful as they stared back at us, batting their long eyelashes. I was in shock at how close we were to them.
Of course, watching a small pride of lions whipping their tails around while they lounged on the prairie was an amazing highlight. We all got very excited when one of the lions began to trot toward an antelope, and transitioned into a stalking walk, with her shoulder blades prominently rising and falling with each slow stride. Her head was lowered to the ground, and we were certain we were about to witness a lion’s hunt, but she eventually lost interest and we all let out sighs of disappointment.
After several hours of exploring the African land, which stretched over rolling hills as far as the eye could see and met the horizon over the Congo-Uganda border, we began to head back for lunch. However, a herd a dozen gigantic elephants were just beside the road. Our safari guide had the van stop, and I excitedly took one picture immediately after another as they crossed directly behind our vehicle. I was sitting on the roof in the back, with the most extraordinary front-row seat I could have ever imagined. Sitting beside me, Jen was nervous about their close proximately, but I thought watching the trunks swinging, the massive ears flapping back and forth, and the magnificent steps of the elephants was a beautiful sight.
I didn’t believe that anything could top our experience on the ‘game ride’, but our afternoon cruise down the river and to the Murchison Falls was spectacular. Literally, every couple yards, a hippopotamus would break the surface of the water and bob its head up and down. I had never actually seen a hippo out of the water until the cruise, and was shocked at how large and aggressive the animal is in size, when it is not hidden under the contents of a body of water. Crocodiles sunned themselves along the banks of the river, and I was a bit nervous when the ferry driver attempted to parallel park along the bank to get close to a humongous crocodile. I happened to be seated along the edge of the boat, literally within the distance to reach out and touch it. To add to the suspense, all the observers who had gone to the second floor all rushed over to see the 14 foot reptile, which forced the one side of the boat to lower under all the weight. At this point, I was very uncomfortable to be at the level of the bank where the crocodile had been resting, and my heart almost jumped out of my chest when it bolted into the water a few feet from me.
At the climax of our cruise, we were able to watch the rushing water falling from the high cliffs above the Nile. The Murchison Falls were stunning, with a brilliant rainbow above one of the Falls. We had the opportunity to further explore the sight the following morning as we hiked above and below the falls.
The safari adventure captured nature in a way I had never had the opportunity to view it before, and opened up GOD’s creation in a completely different capacity. I feel as though I have seen something so spectacular, that it has become a part of me, and I shall carry it with me throughout the rest of my life. My only hope is that everyone would have the opportunity to see what I have witnessed with their own eyes, because there is nothing in the world that can even closely compare to the radiant and astonishing experience of being so deeply surrounded by the earth’s beauty.

camera lens.

4.8.08

Tuesday was my first time being able to go to Mengo Youth School in the slums of Kampala. The only other time ICY had gone after my arrival to Africa, my digestive system was challenged by the different food, and I felt too weak to leave the house. Now, however, I am accustomed to the food and quite enjoying it, so I was very grateful to be able to visit Mengo.
When our van pulled up to the street side, I looked out the window at carpentry workshops, construction sites, and men who were drilling and torch-lighting metals. Confused to why we stopped in the center of all the manufacturing, I asked, “Are we here?” Jen nodded her head and with the van door sliding open, three children immediately came running up to our vehicle, excitedly smiling and waving at us. We all got out of the van, and began to walk through the dirt, stepping over metal scraps, wooden panels, and construction tools. I looked ahead to see a dark, one room structure, which was lifted on wooden rafters, with the walls made of large wooden panels, large gaps between each. The children came flying out of the only door and ran at us, determined to be the first to grab a hold of our hands. They were wild and aggressive, fighting off other students who attempted to touch my hand. I was slightly flustered, and struggled to keep my balance with all the weight and pull from the children.
With all the chaos surrounding the one-room school, it was difficult for me to believe that they students could concentrate on academics. The sounds of hammering, drilling, and shouting men carried into the room from the entrance. I helped boost a small child up into the raised doorway, and the thick, hot air felt like it immediately encompassed me. The gaps between the wooden panels allowed the sun to shine through, revealing the unsettled dirt and sawdust in the air.
Sam lifted up his guitar to begin strumming one of the usual songs, and the children instantly became even more rowdy. I struggled to take photographs in the dark space, with the floor jostling around under the jumping feet of dancing children. Jen had asked me to take some photographs for the “Empower a Child” website, which links the public to information about the sponsorship program which has branched off of ICY. Jen and Wilson began this organization last year to help support children who do not have the funds to go to school. It continues to grow, and thanks to American sponsors, some of the children who once went to school at Mengo Youth are now attending the public school. A Ugandan man saw a need for the community in the area, so he established a classroom that could offer free education to children in the neighborhood who would otherwise have no opportunity to attend school. Jen explained to me that for lower grade levels, it can cost around $100 US for a student to go to school. For the children who attend Mengo Youth, it would be nearly impossible for a family to come up with the financial needs.
As I continued to snap photographs of the children and ICY volunteers, beads of sweat poured off my face and down the viewfinder of my camera. The environment within the schoolroom and surrounding construction sites must seem unpleasant to many of the students, but it also uncovers the deep desire these children have to learn.
After singing songs and playing “Simon Says” with the students, the ICY volunteers counted off small groups for the children to read stories. As I moved around the crowded room to take pictures, I had an advantage to visit all the different groups and see each child in a less frenzied manner. Laura was reading to some of the children, and I noticed through my lens a deep burn on a little girl’s hand who was sitting upon Laura’s lap. I took away my Nikon to have a direct look, and it appeared to be infected and very exposed. As I moved on to the next group, I could see through my lens that Felicity was in conversation with a boy who looked to be about 11 years old. Felicity had volunteered with ICY for almost the last two years, and arrived last Wednesday from her home in England, after going back for Christmas. Later that day, she told me that the boy she was talking with had just lost his father the last Monday. Robert’s mother had died earlier in his life, so he was now orphaned and living with one of Mengo’s teachers. I had taken several pictures of Robert and Felicity with my camera before moving on to the other groups.
The headmistress had informed one of the ICY volunteers about one of the girls at Mengo, which saddened us all to hear. The girl who we believe to be about 13, was four months pregnant, after she had been raped by her brother. The teachers at Mengo have contacted the police to find the man, after he ran away. Amanda, one of the ICY volunteers, has volunteered with a pregnancy crisis center, and is planning to go visit the young girl to offer her counseling and support. I had captured a picture of her without knowing her situation, and looking at the image later, it was evident that there was sadness and pain behind her eyes.
The children of Mengo Youth have such strong stories of pain and challenge, all beyond what a child should experience. I had spent most of the day observing the children through my camera lens, snapping away over 150 images within the hour. I only knew about a couple of the intricate stories behind the faces I had taken pictures of, and as I scrolled through the pictures on my laptop later that night, I wondered about the backgrounds of the other children. So many of the children delighted in having their portraits taken, many of them fighting to be in the front of my lens and rushing forward to see the picture on my digital display screen. Through the lens, many of the children flashed beaming grins, but there is so much hurt and sensitivity behind their smiles. I am delighted to have been able to be a part of the team who brought joy to the children that morning. I am even more glad to have brought my camera, which thrilled the children to stare through my lens back into my eye. I wish, however, that the kids at Mengo Youth didn’t need a distraction of songs and taking pictures to forget the issues they must deal with everyday.

simplicity.

4.4.08

Instead of heading to a specific project Friday, about 15 of us took two vehicles outside of Kampala to a village rich in jungle greenery. Peter, a friend to ICY and the Ugandan who sold ICY his van, had purchased a large piece of land in Kyampisi. He had a vision to build a church/ children’s education and recreation center in the area, because there wasn’t one anywhere near the village.
So we were available to help him clear the land. With the sun severely beating down on us, and the jungle thick with trees and bush, we lined up and began to go to work, chopping down the greenery with a “panga” in hand. Laura, Grace, and I watched from the open area, which had been cleared earlier, until someone felt tired. There were not enough machetes for each of us, but I was delighted when I was handed the large blade.
Just before I began, Sylvan, a local Ugandan volunteer, announced that he had killed a snake. I was so excited to see it, and was fascinated by the headless snake, which was still squirming around on the blade of his machete. It was a small, grayish-purple colored poisonous snake, about twelve inches in length and rather thin. Sylvan explained to me that the poison of the snake is stored in the tail and then sent to the head when feeling threatened or hunting. He had cut the head off before any poison would have had a chance to travel to it.
With caution to my steps in the jungle, I approached a tree with several thick branches split from the base. With one great swing, I sent the blade tearing into the side of the tree and began to repeatedly hack away at it. The branch was the diameter of a large soup can, and I immediately felt beads of sweat rolling off my face and neck. Pieces of splintered wood, pollens, and crushed leaves plastered against my skin, I triumphantly yelled out “timber!” to finish off the first branch. The process takes great patience and concentration, and I am proud to have chopped down half a dozen sizeable trees and many vines and bushes. The pain in my hand from keeping such a tight grip on the machete handle was unbelievable. The first time I attempted to release my grip, I struggled to unfold my stiffened fingers. It felt as though I had lost the ability to flex and release my fingers properly. The blisters that accumulated along the interior of my palm made it more unbearable with each swing of the machete, but I wanted to take down as many trees as I could to help Peter’s vision one day become a reality. We worked from late morning into mid-afternoon before we finally finished the area, which we had come to clear. So much man-power went into taking down the area, and I couldn’t help but mention to Laura how quickly this jungle could be removed by a machine in America. The machete is such a simple tool, capable of much. But it needs to be teamed with so much muscle and physical labor to make progress.
Everyone was exhausted from the intense heat and physical labor, so the invitation to eat at the home of a family in the village sounded wonderful. We all walked a ways down the dirt road and greeted the people at the house, smiling and feeling grateful for their hospitality. Because many people out in African villages eat only one meal a day in the late afternoon, the usual meal of “Katogo” is a very heavy dish, which sits in the stomach for quite some time. The children of the family brought us generously proportioned plates of the Cassava [potato-like root] and bean mixture, and I quickly understood why it would be an ideal food to serve when only one meal a day is eaten. It felt so good to eat after all the physical labor, and to sit and relax. Peter led a short reflection and prayer session for all the people in the village who had come to eat with us before we left. It was a great experience to work out in a village and meet the people there. I am excited for Peter’s plans and how it will be able to contribute to the community. The way that the people in the village live is so simple and modest. They are stewards of the nature which surrounds them and it is evident that the community of friends and family is the main focus of importance. There is little to distract them from concentrating on building community among the people and appreciating the closeness of one another. Simplicity is beautifully displayed in the African villages, and it was a great display which prompted me to reflect on the true priorities in life.

music.

4.3.08

With the sun shining brightly and our van in the driveway, there was nothing to stop us from going to Sanyu Babies Home this week. Nine of us piled into the van destined for the orphanage and arrived at our usual classroom to find the 8 month olds to 1 and a half year olds all sporting shiny red Patton leather shoes. As soon as I sat in the middle of the floor, three little babies crawled over to me, including little rolly Elijah who laid his head and back across my lap and pushed his body forward, so he might keep view of the other babies and ICY volunteers from his upside-down perspective. Not long after we began to play with all the babies, it was time for them to have a snack. Those who could walk and sit up properly each went to their individually labeled chairs, and the youngest ones were placed in highchairs.
One little boy on the end of the row of highchairs caught my attention, as he struggled and let out broken cries every few moments. One of the teachers asked me to take him out of the highchair and carry him over the swinging bed. I was a little panicked about trying to help calm him down, feeling intimidated by my lack of experience and confidence with babies. As soon as I placed his little body onto the small mattress, however, he calmed down and rested peacefully. I was shocked at how simple the solution seemed to be to make Mark comfortable. The women seemed to my facial expression of surprise and began to share his story with all the ICY volunteers who were spread out around the classroom, helping the little children with their crackers. Mark was about 8 months old, and was developmentally behind where he should be for his age. Mark came to Sanyu when he was a few months old, with severe neglect in his past. His mother became pregnant with him when she was only 14, and gave birth to Mark after her 15th birthday. The girl’s mother was no longer a part of the family, for an unknown reason, and it was the father of the family who conceived Mark with the young girl. Because he was unwanted by both the girl and her father, Mark was left in his crib, laying down and rarely held all day and night. I was heartbroken listening to this story, and looked down to Mark’s serene face as I rocked the swinging bed.
The teacher came over to be from across the room to explain how they had been trying to work with him to force him to sit up, though it was very uncomfortable for him. I picked him up intending to have him sit up, but he immediately stiffened up, refusing to fold his body into a sitting position. She helped me place him on the ground, in between my two legs to help prop him up. “He’ll complain and whine a bit, but just keep him entertained with a toy…” she told me. His broken cries returned, and I felt uneasy trying to get his focus on a rattle for several minutes.
Sam, one of the Ugandan ICY volunteers, had brought his guitar, so we gathered all the little ones outside on mats to listen to him play. I picked up Mark, who was still whimpering a bit, and chose a place in the shade to sit with him. Just as he had been doing in the classroom, he tried to slouch down and morph himself into a horizontal position. I continued to scoot him back up in between my legs to support his back. I also allowed his tiny head to rest in my right hand, which kept his head from trying to lean all the way back. The babies and toddlers all latched on to the ICY volunteers, sitting and laying down on laps, holding on to shoulders and hands, and running to and from different volunteers. Mark and I continued with a pattern of slouching down and scooting back up. I felt so sad to know how uncomfortable he was, but I wanted to contribute to his physical development.
After he got settled and comfortable, Sam began to play on his guitar, singing kid songs and worship music. Mark tried to slide down a few more times, but not too long into the music session, I noticed he wasn’t trying to slouch as frequently. In fact, two songs later, he was sitting up with no complaining. My legs still had to remain tightly around his body, but something about the music seemed to calm him in a way I had not been able to any time prior. He and I sat together quietly, occasionally I would sing with my head down at his level or help him clap to the music. Other classrooms of children came out to join us, and babies and toddlers were running all over the grass and courtyard, giggling and swaying to the music. Some of them carried candy suckers, and I was very sticky from those who came over to visit me!
As the singing continued, I laid back a bit and stroked Mark’s head as he quietly took in the surroundings. After a few minutes, I looked back down at his face, to see his eyes closed and he was fast asleep. Collin was sitting beside me, and had lost his two babies to a nap as well, so he helped me lay Mark down on the mats we had brought out. Sam continued to sing and one by one many of the babies fell asleep. With my lap now empty, I bobbed my head to the music and sang along to the ones I knew. I am beginning to pick up on the songs in Luganda, but I still feel unconfident about singing along and having someone fluent in Luganda hear my incorrect pronunciation! I kept a close survey over Mark, and smiled as I watched his little body peacefully rise and fall with each tiny breath. Such a sweet baby, I am so thankful for Sanyu and the love and attention that they give to these babies who may otherwise never receive it. I am looking forward to next Thursday, and hopefully seeing Mark with more willingness to sit upright. With the affection of those who work in Sanyu, I expect he’ll continue to progress very well.

pencils.

4.1.08

“The LORD JESUS said himself, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35

 

            This morning we all loaded into our van. Yes, our van. Good-bye to frequent rides on boda bodas and pushy taxi drivers. The LORD has provided and ICY has a van! It certainly got a work out driving up and down the dirt roads over steep hills. The broken cement and deep potholes in the dirt create a pathway that resembles a black-diamond, mogul-covered trail at a ski resort. With several packs of pencils in a bag, we arrived in Banda to lead songs and games at a small school. The two classrooms which made up the school were small and crowded with children. The structure of the building was made of cement and wooden panels, with large gaps in between the beams. The classrooms were divided from one another by a wall which seemed to be constructed of tightly woven straw-like material. While it was dark inside, the smiles of the children were bright, and they waved and clapped to get our attention.

            The first classroom had several posters hung on the walls, and letters of the alphabet strung on colorful paper across the room. The younger children were just finishing their snack when Billy, Jen, Wilson, Sam, Jed, Laura, Collin, and I dispersed ourselves among the children sitting on wooden benches. This was the first time ICY had visited this school, which had been operating for only two years, with about 120 children enrolled. In a wing off the building lived a widowed woman who allowed the children to meet there. We all introduced ourselves, and Sam began to play his guitar to teach some songs. We sang in English and Luganda, clapping and dancing with some children as young as three years old. Other children and teachers peered in through the one window and doorway of the classroom, flashing cheerful smiles and swaying their bodies to the beat.

            As we concluded with the songs, we opened our bag of pencils and passed them out to all the students. The children waved their pencils high in the air and chattered excitedly about their gifts. Some of the younger students sitting beside me were very shy and hesitated to grab the pencils from our hand, but I could tell in their eyes how thrilled they were once they tightened their hold on the new pencil.

            When it was time for our group to move to the classroom on the other side of the dividing wall of stripped strands of wood, the children began to wail with disappointment at our departure. Some children had streams of tears falling down their little faces, and I reflected on how meaningful our short session had been to them.

            On the other side of wall, we could still hear the cries of the young students. The second classroom had older children between eight and twelve years old, and I climbed over several benches to sit beside a boy who looked to be about ten. The students were anxious to meet us, and Wilson introduced our team. He asked them to guess the names of each of us, and I whispered the first few names to the boy on my left side so that he could triumphantly shout them out. We sang the same songs that we had just led with the younger kids, and after we would finish a song, the children on the other side of the wall would begin to cry again. I couldn’t help but laugh as one of the children tried to pry her little fingers between the thin pieces of wood to create a space to peer through and watch us. Some of the songs create such a source of energy and enthusiasm for the children, and I felt so blessed to be a part of the joy that was felt throughout the room.

            When we finished singing, we opened another couple packs of pencils and began to pass them out to cheering students. All of them were so anxious to receive the pencils, and held them high into the air upon receiving one.

            As we concluded our session at the tiny school, we thanked the teachers and leaders of the facility. The children were on their tip-toes to wave good-bye to us from the doorways and windows from each classroom, while a few of the youngest ones ran out from the classroom to grab our hands.

            A couple songs and a pencil each… It seems like such a small gesture, but the impact of our time there was so significant to the children. Giving our personal time and a simple writing pencil was a blessing in the eyes of the children, but more- a blessing to me. As I had planned for my time here, I was hoping to be able to help other people by devoting my time and service in the Name of the LORD. What I didn’t expect, however, was to feel more of a blessing in the joy and openness shown by the people of Uganda.

 I wished that I could have presented the children with more than a pencil each, but I am humbled by their appreciation and openness for spending time with our team. I cannot wait to go back and see their smiling faces… and maybe hand out more pencils.