Finding Silivano

Today I visited my referral patient, Silivano. It was quite an experience! I set off for Mulago Hospital, the biggest government hospital in the country. I think I read somewhere that it has 1500 beds. I had no idea what to expect when I arrived. As I walked through the gates, I realized just how overwhelming the place must be to the patients we send here from Bundibugyo. Many of them have never even left the district, let alone entered a city of 1.5 million. The hospital complex was a hub of activity with a jumble of buildings as far as the eye could see. As someone with a bit of experience in American hospitals, I hoped I'd be able to navigate this one.

Silivano's father's phone was off so I couldn't reach him to ask what ward he was on. I figured I'd start the search for him at what looked like the "main entrance" with a big sign over the door. There were rows of people sitting and waiting--for what, I don't know. There was no information booth. Dead end #1. There would be a lot more dead ends until I found Silivano. I spent the next hour traipsing around Mulago's campus, looking for him in one of the three pediatric wards. There are few to no signs directing you to the different wards. The walkways wind around and for a while I attempted to look like I knew where I was going as everyone around stared at me, the mzungu girl. Eventually, I gave that up and started asking every person in a uniform for the various locations Silivano could be.

After hoofing it in circles for an hour, I arrived in the correct ward and actually found someone that could direct me to his bed! It was a great victory just to find him and his parents there! Their faces lit up in recognition and I greeted them in Lubwisi. I leafed through his chart and saw a lot of things I didn't understand (since I'm not a doctor!). But I did see that he had several blood transfusions in the last several weeks, accounting for his brighter countenance. I was able to talk with a doctor about him, learned that they doubted he has leukemia. Good news! There is still a long road ahead to figuring out exactly what is causing his anemia, including a bone marrow biopsy. But I was able to give the family the $12 they would need to get an echocardiogram for him and pray for them. I also got the ever important phone number I had hoped to get--the doctor who is caring for him. Now I hope to be able to stay in touch and understand what is happening here, even when I am again far away in Bundibugyo.

Finding Silivano was an incredibly rewarding experience. It reminded me of why I am here and succeeding despite the unknowns and challenges was exciting! Continue to pray for him and his family. Pray for wisdom for the doctors. And pray that God would continue to give me opportunities to use this passion I have for social work and patient advocate!

Mt. Zion

Over the last month or so, I’ve begun to develop a relationship with a local church, Mt. Zion Presbyterian. The church meets in the “inner city” of Nyahuka, our little trading center. Living out here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, makes it hard to believe that there is such a thing as urban ministry. But, when I visited a few weeks ago on Sunday, I realized it does exist, even in Nyahuka!

The church is located two blocks back from the market and main road. Cutting through an alleyway, the path winds around between people’s compounds and suddenly, a “church” pops up. It isn’t a permanent structure but rather several large sticks propping up some tarps. According to our standards of real estate, this property gets a D- on location. It is surrounded by bars and the scent of urine is heavy in the air. Children with runny noses playing with bottle caps, razor blades, or some other piece of trash hang around the doorway and stare into the church. Drunk men wander in and out. The church’s worship drums compete with blaring stereos.

A local bar

It isn’t a pleasant location. But the work being done here is amazing. This is a fellowship that began with Ugandan effort and is sustained with Ugandan effort. The pastor chose this undesirable place for a church, serving as a missionary to his own people. And the church is having an impact on this community among the bars and brothels. Two prostitutes have come to know Christ as well as a woman that used to sell beer to alcoholics.  And two previous alcoholics are now key leaders in the church. Mt. Zion has partnered with other churches in the presbytery to start a seminary to train Ugandans in the Word. They’ve started a women’s savings and loan association, which is a major step in financial development. Women meet weekly to put money into savings and present business plans in the hopes of receiving a loan to be paid back in 30 days.

They’ve also started a primary school—teaching children aged 3 to 7. I have become friends with the woman running the school and have enjoyed stopping by on a few occasions. The “school” also is not a permanent structure but a shelter made of reeds and twine. About 20 kids attend school there. Annette, my friend, showed me the few materials they had for teaching the children—not exactly what most pre-school teachers have to work with. But the kids are learning to count and write and we even managed to sing a rendition of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes”.

I’m looking forward to attending church there, hopefully more often. As someone who has always been passionate about urban ministry, I figured God just had a sense of humor in sending me to the remote jungle reaches of Uganda. But even here, he has shown me opportunities in the “inner city”. Each step I take in becoming more involved in the church is also coming with a lot of prayer (in part due to reading “When Helping Hurts”). These ministries and the church itself began entirely with Ugandan motivation. I don’t want to be the mzungu that enters in and takes over or even inherit roles of leadership simply because of my skin color. As I go to visit Annette, I don’t plan on bringing 25 coloring books and packets of crayons for the kids. It’d be fun but not very helpful in the long run. As I make plans to start a youth bible study, I want to partner with a Ugandan youth leader. Pray for me as I seek out how I can help in this kingdom work without being paternalistic or creating dependency. And pray for more fruit to grow in these new disciples!

Webale Kwejuna

Today my twin nephews, Sam and Elias, turn one year old. Even in the short two months I’ve been away, they look so much bigger in photos. I’m told they take a while to warm up to new people and like to crawl around the house together. They’re cruising around furniture which probably looks a little funny since they are still so small but before too long they’ll be running to catch up with big brother, Ethan.

For many reasons, I’ll never forget the day that they were born. In the weeks leading up to their birth, I struggled with being far from home as Rachel was in the hospital and I heard updates from my Mom about her pre-term labor. I was sick and struggling to function here. Eventually the decision was made for me to go back to the U.S. for a month to get good medical care. And the day I flew out of Kampala, I was getting text messages from my brother as he and Rachel were in the OR and the boys were born.

Now, a year later, it is hard to believe all that has happened. Sam and Elias fought hard and they are now chubby, healthy boys celebrating their first birthday. I’m back where I started—in Uganda—after a similar fight for life. It can be overwhelming to try and process all that 12 months have brought. But with each “anniversary” of a big event, I take a moment to think about it and praise God for sustaining me through the past and bringing me to this point.

Today I am thankful for two sweet boys and their perseverance in the fight (as well as their parents’ perseverance!) to survive. Webale kwejuna (thank you for surviving), Sam and Elias! And webale Yesu for bringing yet another anniversary, another reminder of your sustaining love, another opportunity to be thankful for where you’ve placed me today.

Out and About (Part 1)

I have spent several days throughout the last week or so in the community. It has been such a blessing to have the energy needed for engaging in cross-cultural friendships. And with a combined 8 months of experience here, I am far from knowing what to expect but slightly more comfortable in these “fish out of water” experiences. And I’ve also been around long enough to have some blossoming friendships!

Last Sunday I had the privilege of being the guest of honor at a church service. My friend, Janet, visited me a week before telling me how she had been so touched by the news of my cancer diagnosis. She had shared with her church and they had all been praying for me last summer. She had even written me a song about trusting God in struggle! Needless to say, I was blown away by her love for me and the prayers of Ugandans I had never met. She invited me to church and I quickly agreed.

The night before church I felt anxious. I’m not sure why exactly. Maybe because I wasn’t sure what to expect other than a really long day on Sunday. Maybe because Janet called and said they were “throwing a party” for me after church and I don’t love being the center of attention. Maybe because the Enemy wanted to distort this blessing and encouragement. Or maybe because living here is like being in a fishbowl. Every move is watched, scrutinized, and commented on merely because of your skin color. Sometimes I hate being “special” and wish I could just blend in. Add onto that the reason for my guest of honor status—cancer—and I was dealing with a lot of complex emotions regarding my “specialness”.

Anyway…I was so thankful that my housemate, Pamela, volunteered to come along for moral support. The day turned out to be fabulous. We spent some time visiting with Janet and her husband, Robert and her adorable little boy, Hannington. And we went to her church, where I was able to give glory to the Lord for healing me and thank the congregation for their many prayers. It was so encouraging to see how God is using my testimony to give hope to others.

The “party” afterwards was low-key and just involved a delicious lunch with some family and friends after church. We laughed and laughed at the cultural differences between Americans and Ugandans and took lots of photos. The highlight of the afternoon: eating my first chicken gizzard.

The gizzard is a sign of honor, bestowed upon the most important guest. Our friends are used to “mzungus” and know that gizzards are not common fare to us. But they offered it and Pamela and I decided to take the plunge together! Of course we had to take some photos to prove it :)

Our day with Janet, Robert, Hannington and friends was an encouragement. I’m so thankful for friends who prayed for me while I was on the other side of the world. And I haven’t laughed so hard in a while!