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.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
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!
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!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
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.
culture.
3.29.08
The culture of Africa greatly contrasts with what I know as familiar in America. So what better way for me to fully embrace Uganda’s beauty than to fully indulge in its riches? Saturday afternoon Laura, Jed, and I traveled by taxi van into the business of Kampala with Jen to visit the Kasubi Tombs. Jen stayed outside since she had been there before. Upon entering the area, Laura and I were given long wraps to wear over our jeans to coordinate with the tradition of women in skirts. Jed, Laura, and I joined a group of German travelers for the tour of the site.
The Kasubi Tombs have the bodies of the past Ugandan Kings buried within the palace, which resembles a large, straw-covered hut. Before entering the palace, Joseph informed us that pregnant women or babies who have yet to develop teeth are not allowed inside. This coincides with a tradition set by the first king. Because he had so many wives and children, he found it difficult to find peace inside his palace with screaming infants and emotional pregnant women. He brilliantly established a rule to keep out this population to keep the serenity within his place. We followed Joseph, our tour guide, inside the palace to sit down on the colorful straw-woven mats. Joseph mentioned, “It’s not easy to sit like royalty,” as we all struggled to sit the proper way, with our knees bent for our legs to be under or to the side of the rest of our bodies. Joseph went through the entire history of the kings of Uganda, up to the current reigning King Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II who is from the Mamba Lineage, which is within the Buganda Tribe. All kings must traditionally come from the Buganda Tribe. At the moment, the current king has one son, but officially he would not be able to take over the throne because his mother is from outside of the Buganda Tribe. Throughout our tour, we learned that Joseph was a relative to the king, so naturally, I took a picture with him!
Surrounding the palace are smaller huts where women live on the grounds. There are around six tribes within Buganda, and the leaders of each tribe choose one young, virgin girl of about twelve years old to present to the ruling king as a gift. If the king accepts the young woman, she will be limited to live within one of the smaller huts around the Kasubi Tombs and remain within those grounds for her entire life. As we left the site, we walked by some of the “Nakku” girls who were chosen by the past kings. The women who are related to the choice of the current king live in a house at an unknown location, and will not be moved to the huts at Kasubi Tombs until a new king has come into power. King Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II, however, is not as concerned with tradition and has only accepted one “Nakku”. The history and tradition is very intricate, but I enjoyed learning more about the culture with which I am currently immersed.
It has been ten days since my arrival to Uganda and I am working diligently to pick up Luganda, which is the dominating language in Uganda, after English. Every night, I sit down with Wilson and Sarah and have them teach me common words and phrases, patiently spelling out each and waiting for me to master the pronunciation so that I may phonetically write it down in my journal. I appreciate the tolerance they have for me as I struggle to correctly speak the language. I am very proud to have close to forty Luganda words and phrases in my vocabulary.
Everyday is an opportunity for me to build on my understanding and appreciation for Africa. I smile as I walk down busy dirt roads, dodging taxi vans and deep potholes, ignoring beckoning boda boda drivers, and waving to wide-eyed Ugandan children. Through all the chaos, I reflect on the time, which I have spent in this country thus far, and the exciting months ahead. There is a saying here: “TIA- This is Africa!” …And it certainly is a beautiful place.
Amazzi [ah-MAH-zee] “Water”.
3.27.08
“Jesus answered, ‘Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.’” John 4:13-14
African soil is a rich, rust-colored red which paves way the roads and walking paths in Kampala. It is a beautiful sight to see the contrast of deep burnt sienna swirling around on the ground with the lush, green backdrop of the plant life on a windy day. When the rains pour down upon Africa, however, walking through the streets can be rather unpleasant. Shoes sink deep into the muddy streets, collecting mounds of sludge on the soles. The great potholes fill with rain and create risky opportunity for taxis to tidal-wave pedestrians who walk too close to the traffic. The thunderstorm from the night before carried into the early morning, so we were not able to go to Sanyu Babies Home as scheduled on Thursdays.
We waited out the rain, discussing how it would be much easier to make the trek to the various projects we serve if the ICY organization had a van. Our prayers were answered this week, however, by a man in Florida whom Wilson had met this winter while speaking at different churches and schools throughout the USA. He decided to donate the money needed for ICY to purchase a van, which would serve to transport volunteers, as well as act as a taxi service the other time to help raise support for the organization. ICY hopes to purchase the van in the next few weeks.
In the afternoon with our pants rolled up, we tiptoed through the soggy grounds to catch a taxi van to Remand Juvenile Home. Everyone gathered into the outside classroom as Sam, one of the Ugandan Volunteer Staff members, began to play worship music on his guitar. Over one hundred teenagers danced and sang with great enthusiasm in both the Luganda and English languages. We played a game, which encouraged bright, smiling faces on all of those in the room, and I wondered how often these kids feel such joy. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to contribute to a fun and positive program which the residents of Remand Home can look forward to each week.
Jed, one of the American volunteers who arrived from Georgia with his wife ten days prior to my arrival, gave a message to the youth. He discussed the story of JESUS and the Samaritan Woman at the well from the fourth chapter of John in the bible. So many of the teens in the home have tried to fill their lives with theft, drugs, sex, and violence to cover up the painful experiences and relationships from their past. The Samaritan Woman similarly tried to find fulfillment in her life with her relationships with men. When JESUS met the woman at the well and asked for a drink of water, she was taken aback by a Jewish man speaking to her as a Samaritan, something which was socially unacceptable. JESUS looked beyond her label and her lifestyle, and offered her something that could satisfy her thirst- living water. HE said to her, “Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:14b. So many of the kids there really embraced Jed’s message and I was so inspired by the passion and energy they had in their prayers to the LORD.
When it was time for us to leave, the afternoon light drizzling had begun to clear up, though the clouds kept a thick layer over our heads. Billy, the ICY project manager, thought it would be nice to walk back to our house, rather than take a taxi. I was anxious to see more of Kampala’s scenery [and to save 500-700 shillings!], so I accompanied him on the three mile, walk home. The City of Seven Hills had beautiful views and the plants were ripe with life from the rains. Billy and I laughed after a truck almost sprayed us with muddy water when he hit a pothole because he was distracted by the “muzungu” [ma-ZOON-gu]-a white person walking on the side of the road. I apologized to Billy for almost getting drenched. When we finally reached home, we had to wash our shoes of the mud, which had caked itself all the way up onto our pant legs. GOD bless the rains down in Africa…even if it creates a mess load of mud!
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