Category: Africa

i hadn’t got online yet. my computer has been acting funny so i rebooted. as it started up with the reassuring whirl of a hard drive booting, i turned on my space heater, and returned to my desk.

opening up firefox [the browser of choice], my eyes skimmed down my news section as i typically do every morning.

my heart got stuck in my throat, and i couldn’t breathe when i read this headline:

SCHOOL FIRE KILLS UGANDA CHILDREN

I clicked, tears already welling up in my eyes.

An overnight fire in dormitory at a Ugandan junior school near the capital, Kampala, has killed at least 19 girls. 

The BBC’s Joshua Mmali at the scene says distraught parents are wailing as rescuers work to retrieve bodies.

“Preliminary investigations indicate that it was homicide,” Police Inspector General Kale Kaihura said, reports AP news agency.

Our reporter says it has been established that the hostel’s doors were locked from the outside.

Two adults are also reported to have died in the fire, which police say started at 2200 local time (1900 GMT) on Monday.

It is not clear how many children were in the room, which had 63 beds.

A Red Cross worker told the BBC that it is difficult to identify the bodies as sometimes only pieces of bodies are being found.

all my mind can see right now are the all the girls sophie and i played ball with two afternoons. their smiling faces, their bright eyes, their laughter. their silliness as they would catch and tumble and drop the ball. the sing-song in their voices.

to clarify, the school in the story is not the school we visited. but i have no doubt the girls are just like the ones we were playing with. hugging. loving. laughing with.

linet, the i sponsor from uganda is nine. i just cannot imagine it.

my heart is breaking today, probably in the deepest way since returning from africa. i keep crying. i am really glad i have an office to myself right now.

i am about to email our team that went to uganda with the story. so i also ask you pray for their hearts.

but most of all, please pray for the girls in the school, their parents, and the country of uganda. what a horrible tragedy to face.

if you would like to sponsor a child from uganda, please click here.

EDIT: Sorry, here is the link the the article.

that was one of the questions david kuo asked at our dinner with leadership development students while we were in uganda. a man who is ugandan, a father, a pastor, and leader answered without hesitation,

“uganda.”

some of us seemed a little shocked. america. it’s the land of opportunity. it’s safe. you can get medical attention. at least three meals a day.

“exactly,” the man said. “you know where your next meal is coming from. you have jobs. paychecks. in uganda, you may not know where your next meal comes from. you have no money. you have nothing to depend upon but God. and i would rather have my children rely on God more than i would want them to be distracted by everything else.”

i have been contemplating the things upon which i have dependence. my job? absolutely. my paycheck? yes. my car. what’s in my fridge. other people.

when one of those things gets murky or muddy or falls apart, it’s easy for me to fall apart, too. i am distracted by them, sometimes (and probably more frequently than i’d care to admit) more often than not.

where does my help come from?

i am distracted from dependence on god.

in a culture of over-abundance and luxury, how can we remedy this?

(ps – if you want to look at some of the most beautiful children in uganda, click here.)

After three solid days of intense experiences in Africa, we took a small plane (which was an intense experience of itself) to a spot about 250 miles away from Kampala, the only city in Uganda. The lodge we were staying at was powered by a generator. The nearest medical facility was six hours away on unpaved and potentially unsafe roads.

We were in the middle of nowhere.

And it was time to rest.

One afternoon, we took a ferry across the Nile River and then hopped in a small bus. We drove half an hour on the bumpiest dirt road one could ever imagine to Murchison Falls, one of the many wonders of the world. We then hiked another half hour to the very top.

Slowly we progressed on a narrow, rocky trail, dodging tree branches and mosquitoes along the way. We occasionally stopped at the most beautiful parts of the rapids, taking each other?s pictures, but for the most part, the hike remained quietest part of the trip.

As we reached the top of the falls, we passed several signs warning us of the steep cliffs and the danger that awaited. Nobody was scared. Everyone was in awe. We helped each other over the slippery rocks and finally reached the very top.

Our guides told us many people have died at Murchison Falls. There are no rails to stop you from falling over. It?s you. The rocks. And the falls. The beauty of water is transformed into something breathtaking. People become mesmerized by the unique blend of tranquility and power. Some to the point they lose footing and fall over.

Standing as close to the edge as our leaders and guides would let us, we let the wind carry the spray and slowly drench us. Any fears of falling, of accidentally swallowing the parasite-infested water, of getting ravished by malaria-carrying mosquitoes?had all vanished.

The hardships of the trip ? the pain we saw, the poverty, the brokenness?those things didn?t disappear or float away in the rapids of the Nile. But taking that day to rest?to go to a quiet place and be reminded of the incredible power of the Creator, if anything, more tightly knit His sovereignty and hope to the terrible things we did see.

Rest bound together the incomplete to the complete.

We cannot be dependent on ourselves and dependent on God at the same time. When we consider the practice of rest unnecessary, we also will inevitably lose sight of the necessity of God.

since our internet in uganda was maybe 14.4kb/s at its quickest was being consumed by fifteen passionate bloggers desperate to sponsor children, some of us are just now getting a chance to post some videos and other stories from the trip. including me.

first: watch this…

on the second day, we drove into a more remote area of the country to visit a project especially for educating and taking care of pregnant mothers and their children up to the age of three. each mother has a case worker who visits and checks in on the health, well-being, goals, and dreams of the caretakers and their children.

shannon, shaun, brian, and i took quite a journey on foot through this rural village until we reached the home we were to visit with the caseworker.

the home was immaculate.

way cleaner than my house has ever been.

carefully laid lace cloth graced every bit of furniture. another sheet of lace served as the front door.

the caseworker asked such detailed questions…taking notes in a very full, but organized folder.

she was asking about musa, the youngest child.

is he playing well with others? (yes…he loves to play ball.)

has he had fevers? (no…he’s been healthy)

have you made him any toys? she showed us several toys she made for musa. handwoven dolls and balls made from dried banana husks.

we asked what dreams she had for her children.

“i dream someday…my children will become doctors…”

when you trip over the toys in your house today, i pray you’ll think of the toys this mother made for her son. when you lock your door tonight as you get ready for bed, i pray you’ll think of the delicate lace sheet blowing in a small, ugandan doorway. these sights and sounds and thoughts have never left my mind…and i pray they’ll always remain with you, too.

we have so much. and these children need so little in comparison. just a little bit can truly make the biggest difference in the life…and the dreams…of a child.

over 350 children have been sponsored as a result of this trip. don’t let it end now.

it’s not too late. if you haven’t yet, please sponsor a child today.

it was really, really late on our last night in uganda. shuan, brian, keely, boomama and i needed to get to our rooms…but bats swarmed the outdoor hallways.

boomama, you see, is terrified of bats. and they didn’t like us a whole lot either. especially after shaun popped one in the face with his computer…

we made a mad dash for it…and we were dive-bombed…twice.

you know when you went to youth camp. they split you up from your best friends and threw you into groups with total strangers. you had no idea what to expect. but after the first few hours those strangers become fast friends, and before you know it, it’s time to go home.

in my inbox sits somewhere around 47 emails (most of them “reply to all”) from our group that went to uganda. of us talking about how we are all waking up at 12:30 am and staying up until 3 am. about how we’re struggling to adjust, but knowing reentry is all a part of it. about eclipses, crying, blogging, and…missing each other.

we went through a lot in a few short days. hundreds of children latching on to us. heads busted open. mosquitoes. meeting our sponsor children. eating weird things. bats. monkeys. aids clinics. no sleep. probably 900 bottles of water. kampala traffic. home visits. mothers. babies. stowaways. coke light. deet.

now that we’re all back home, it’s not the same.

my heart has been aching in so many ways. today, it aches for missing these amazing people.

(this picture was taken at lunch our last day in uganda. prossy is the beautiful woman in the middle. you can meet her here).

Practically 48 hours with no sleep. Give or take 40 hours of travel. One stop in the custom’s “lock up” (I am so criminal), two flight delays, and finally, I am at home.

Shaun made the most incredible video of our home visit I referenced earlier in the week about the family who lives in a 6×6 room…

Until my brain is functioning again, please watch it, and let it sink in.

As soon as I can, I’ll share with you the amazing number of children that were sponsored during the last week. Thank you all from the very bottom of our hearts.

Let me ask you this…on our trip, what has been the one thing that has stuck with you? That has burned something inside you you’ll never forget?

if you’re familiar with the myers briggs test, you’re familiar with the “thinker” and the “feeler.” i’m definitely a thinker. a thinker with empathy, but a thinker nonetheless.

sometimes i wish i had a little more “feeler” in me, but i think i’ve gotten used to the fact i don’t. it’s easy for me to envy those who do feel…who are moved by things so simply…i sometimes even catch myself thinking, “seriously? what is wrong with me…why can’t i feel the way she’s feeling…am i just emotionally blunted or what?”

it can be a very confusing place.

in the last week, we’ve been faced with things we’ve never seen/heard/smelled/touched/tasted. things that are heartbreaking. things that aren’t fair. things that are beautiful. things full of joy.

and…can i be honest with you? i am having a difficult time processing a lot of it.

the “thinker” in me has no idea what to do. what “feeler” i do have has certainly been pushed to her limits, as things have been burned into my soul for the rest of my life.

but really? i don’t get too fired up about anything. i can be passionate, but not overtly. i pretty much stay even-steven, taking things as they come and as they go. have i always been like this? for the most part, yes.

is my heart lazy? afraid?

or do i just not function in that way?

and is that okay?

in a few hours, we leave africa. and i know africa will never leave me.

but i think it’s somewhere stuck between my heart and my head.

and i just don’t know what to do with it.

the day the fed ex package arrived in my office, i fell in love. a little blue dress. neatly braided hair. and just a bit of a quiet smirk that said, “i may look harmless, but inside, i’m a rockstar.”

when i learned i would get to meet linet on our trip, i started counting down the days. i kept her photo in my backpack, so i’d constantly see her beautiful brown eyes. a few days before the trip, i went shopping for her and her family. because i wanted to travel light, i made a simple list of a few things, but by the time we were done, we had visited a couple stores, spent way more money than we had planned, and i did something i never had done before.

i broke down and cried in the middle of walmart. all because of a panda bear.

first, for those of you who don’t know me, i simply do not cry. at funerals, i may get a little misty, but it really takes something monumentally emotional in order for the waterworks to start (as if funerals aren’t monumentally emotional?)

but after digging through a few stuffed animals, i saw the one. a panda tucked behind some elmos and some bratz. i picked it up and the moment i took hold of it’s cuddly little paws i had the realization that in just a few days, i would be taking hold of linet’s beautiful little hands.

the tears began to fall.

this beautiful girl with hopes and dreams and friends who loves to sing and who is the smartest girl in her class and i would meet…very soon.

thursday, one by one, they introduced us to the children we sponsor. in a dress as white and as pure and as gleaming as a fresh snow with the same neatly braided hair and same quiet smirk walked towards me. i grabbed her tiny body and held it close, whispering my name to her and telling her how beautiful she was. i gave her some of my beaded bracelets so we could match and told her that every time i see my bracelets, i’ll be thinking of her.

she was so shy. it took a while for the quiet smirk to leave her face. we’d tell her jokes…try and make her laugh…but she’d keep her lips sealed tightly together, with only the corners of her mouth turned up.

finally, i asked dennis (who was translating for me) to tell her if she didn’t smile, i was going to tickle her. he leaned over and whispered something to her.

with those big brown eyes she looked up at me. i made the universal i’m-about-to-tickle-you sign with my fingers, giving her one last chance.

nope. lips locked. she was trying hard.

i had no mercy. i dove in and began attacking her ribs in a ticklish frenzy, and finally she giggled. ever so quietly, but it was certainly a giggle.

we played with my camera, took a few photos, and went through the gifts for her and her family. we blew bubbles with some of her friends, and her big toothy smile never left.

it was so hard to say goodbye. i told her how proud i was that she was the smartest in her class. how beautiful she looked. how much i love her and that i’d send her some letters and photos right away. and how much jesus loves her too. how very very much he loves her.

carrying a bear and a large red bag that probably weighed more than she did, she walked away with the group she came with. i walked to our bus and fought back the tears.

 

 

i cannot believe the amazing honor and privilege i have to see linet grow up. to see her turn into a teenager. to hear about a boy she might like. to see her become even taller, stronger, and more beautiful. to hear about the things she learns in church, and to hear about how she’ll change the world.

i know she will change the world one day. there’s not a doubt in my mind. she’s already started…with a few beaded bracelets, and a fuzzy little panda bear at her side.