Prom-tastic

Last Saturday, I attended a senior prom in the bush of Africa, as a very under-dressed guest of honor. I know that is quite a statement, so let me back up a bit.

I had planned to attend Christ School’s Candidates Party, to show support to the S4 and S6 students, as they took a day off before the onslaught of standardized examinations. I had never been around for one before so I didn’t know exactly what to expect. After asking a few sources, it sounded like the students dressed up a bit, there were some speeches, and food. Michael, my teammate, was preparing a 30 minute talk to encourage the students and I planned on just being present for the fun.

Well, this is Uganda so the festivities got off to a later start than planned. By about 4 hours. And Michael had plans to travel to Fort Portal before dark. So, he was unable to attend. The few other team members in district had other plans. So, I went to the party and looked forward to talking to some students and teachers. It had been a busy day so I hoped I could “make an appearance” and head back home.

I arrived and sat in the back corner, hoping to draw little attention to myself and being able to make an exit without causing disruption. Within 2 minutes of sitting down, the student emcee let everyone know that “Madame Christine” has arrived and needed to say a few words. I quickly spewed out a few greetings on behalf of WHM and wished them the best on their exams and sat down. Not too bad. For the next half hour, I enjoyed the cross-cultural experience of a prom.

The students were incredibly decked out in fancy dresses and stiletto heels or suits and ties. I realized I had never seen many of the girls with jewelry before and could barely recognize a few. There were a lot of pairs of sunglasses going around and even some clear faux reading glasses—to look studious, I suppose. A lot of the party was student-run, including the emcees. Quite a few students performed raps and sang along to popular songs in front of everyone. One of my favorite aspects was Mr. and Miss Party—the Ugandan equivalent of a prom king and queen. I never figured out exactly if they were “elected” by their peers or not but they had a special head table and got to cut the cake amidst much celebration.

I went around to some of the tables, snapping photos of students in their finery. I listened to some of the speeches prepared by the teachers and administration. I felt horribly under-dressed in my sweat-soaked Saturday attire. After the headmaster arrived, he wanted me to sit next to him, closer to the front. I protested but eventually gave in. It was around this time that I started to feel concerned as I heard the words “guest of honor” connected to my name several times. When did this happen?!

I immediately began to sweat as I realized that the guest of honor always has to share a speech. I had nothing prepared. I explicitly told this to at least three people in charge. I could be the guest of honor but wouldn’t be able to give a speech. Yikes! Eventually, I found out that Michael was slated to be the guest of honor but because he didn’t show, the role shifted to me. As I tried to quickly come up with something to say, the moment passed and I took a deep breath. Then, it was announced that I had nothing prepared but the headmaster would speak on my behalf! So, the headmaster stood up, I stood up, and he spoke for me. A strange experience but I didn’t have to give a speech!

The evening ended with food—the students receive posho (a starch) and beans every day. So this feast of goat meat, chicken, rice, cabbage, and potatoes was fabulous! Thankfully I didn’t get a huge portion despite being the guest of honor and I was able to enjoy the food. As I went to leave, every student wanted a photo with me. I enjoyed getting some with the students I knew (and many I didn’t). As I left the school grounds, I was thankful for the staff at CSB, seeing the students have a fun time, and hopeful that they will impact this place in a great way in the future.

Just another manic Monday...

Today has been a manic Monday, to say the least. While every day is not as crazy as today, most days are full of a wide variety of tasks and I often end up doing things I never thought I'd do when I woke up in the morning...or in my lifetime. Let me try to break down today for you and give you a peek into my manic Monday :)

-6:50 am: The alarm goes off and I snooze as long as possible. Happy that the power has stayed on all night after it was off for about 55 hours this weekend. Roll out of bed and throw on a skirt, brush the teeth, and head out the door to check on the conditions of the air field.

-7:15 am: Drive to the airstrip and hear the tires squishing in mud. Not a good sign. But, the sun is out and I can see the mountains beautifully. Call the MAF pilot and let him know the conditions. Head back home. Make breakfast, enjoy a much-needed cup of coffee. Get ready for the day.

-9 am: Drive Jess and Alisha to the health center to drop off some boxes of IV fluids. The pediatric ward is emptied of patients and I see soldiers all over the hospital compound, slashing tall grass, cleaning the ward. We enter the ward and for the first time ever, it smells like bleach instead of urine and illness. Wow! I hear from a nurse that the soldiers have come to help clean for Uganda's Independence Day, which is tomorrow. Thank you UPDF!

-9:15 am: Come back home and give our houseworkers instructions for while I am gone--Joas is baking bread and washing dishes, Susana is washing clothes. I manage to communicate in Lubwisi that I need a mosquito net washed for my parents arrival--exciting stuff!

-9:30 am: Drive to the airfield. The sun is shining and some more soldiers greet me, as they are our security guards for the air strip. Happy to have them there, keeping the hoards of kids out of the plane's way. Settle in and read about sharing the gospel among animistic societies for a few minutes. Hear the plane circling and get out of the car to wave. As I watch the plane come in to land, I say a quick prayer. Should have been a longer one. Half way down the strip, the plane hits a muddy patch and gets stuck. Uh oh.

-10:30 am: After unloading the plane, jamming the car full of bags and goodies from both Kampala and America and loading up the Johnson family minus Travis plus Amy's Dad, we head to Nyahuka. Pamela rides on the roof luggage rack, along with a 6 month supply of dog food for the Johnsons' dogs. We are quite the sight and every kid along the way waves and yells at us.

-11 am: Return to the airfield after dropping the Johnsons, Pamela, and their stuff. Grab a shovel, hoe, and rake and head back with the hopes of digging out the plane wheel mired in the mud. Now comes the fun. The pilot and Travis dig out the wheel and the pilot tries to taxi the plane out of the rut. No luck. For the next hour or more, we attach the car to the stuck plane wheel and "tow" the plane out. This takes a while since we get the wheel to go for about 2 feet, then it gets stuck and so does the car. Back up a bit, dig out the wheel again, pull the plane another 2 feet, and so on. The cycle continued for quite a while. And guess who was driving the car as the two guys pushed the plane? Me. Ha! Finally after quite a lot of pulling, pushing, re-positioning, and digging, the plane clears the muddy area. But it is now facing the wrong direction. Straight into the weeds and trees. So we find about 5 guys that have been standing and watching up to this point and get them to help push the plane and turn it the right direction. They're happy because they know they'll get a little something for their grunt work :)

-12:15: The plane is unstuck, the pilot taxis to the end of the field, and takes off as I pray quite a lot again. I hear some thunder in the distance and I'm so thankful he got out before a storm came. Drive Travis and myself back to Nyahuka.

You'd think the story ends here, right? Nope! My day continues on. As I got back in the car, I noticed my phone had 12 missed calls. Oh boy.

-12:30 pm: Call the two ladies that provide the nutrition program with soy flour and groundnuts and let them know someone will be by to pick up the stuff today. Call Baguma, my contact at Mulago Hospital, to hear that one of the patients with hydrocephaly is being sent back to Bundibugyo today without having surgery. Call my contact at CURE hospital in Mbale to find out what is going on. The child's brain is too swollen to perform surgery currently so he is being sent home with medications and will have to make the 12 hour trip back to the hospital in 1 month to have the surgery. Send money via cell phone for the mother's transport expenses, which requires another two phone calls. Call another patient's father who is currently at Mulago getting tests done to determine was is causing his lymph nodes to be chronically, severely swollen. The father needs me to send more money for the lab costs. Side note: while health care is technically free in Uganda, the system is overloaded. This means that in order to get remotely efficient test results, many are referred to outside private labs to get testing done, which costs money. I talk to Travis about what to do and call the father back.

-1 pm: I realize I don't have enough money loaded on my phone to send to the father. So, even though the rain has now come, I walk down to the market in hopes on depositing money at a MTN store, so I can then send the money electronically to the dad's phone. I go to my usual store and they are currently unable to take deposits. I find another store that can help and deposit the money while kids stand in the doorway yelling "Majungu!" at me.

-1:30 pm: I walk back home in the rain. I have a rain jacket but I'm covered in mud and sweat and it feels good to feel the cool rain on my skin. I send the money to the dad and call a different Baguma, who traveled to Mulago with the family I wrote about in my last post. He fills me in on all that he has helped the family through in the last 24 hours--acting as travel escort, translator, and advocate. They are officially checked in to the hospital and Friday has a bed at the Cancer Institute! The parents are overwhelmed and scared but he has been a great help to them.

-2 pm: Take a much-needed shower. My phone continues to ring. Sit down and eat lunch. Return some more calls. Write up some things to cover in interviews this afternoon as we look for a new nutrition program employee. Tell some kids at the door that I don't have any bread to give them. Come back in my room and hide for a bit as I write this :)

So, it's 2:55 pm as I write and I'm ready for a nap. The thunderstorm has officially rolled in and I'm happy to be inside and dry. Now I'm off to do some accounting and preparing the guest room for my parents! If you decide to be a missionary, remember that you may just find yourself some day pulling a plane out of the mud in the car, or a similarly insane activity...and know that I warned you :)

Advocating for Prayer

Meet Friday. He is three years old and suffering from suspected Burkitt's lymphoma, the most common pediatric cancer in equatorial Africa. The good news: it responds well to chemotherapy. The bad news: the challenges of getting the treatment are many. Friday is from the DRC, the border of which is just a few kilometers from my home here. His parents walked for four hours to reach the border and then took a motorcycle taxi to reach our health center in Nyahuka. They are extremely poor and speak only Lubwisi, the local tribal language. Not only is Friday sick, but is younger sister, Zawadi has sickle cell disease. She is also admitted at the health center with a severe bone infection in her leg (a complication of the sickle cell disease) that has caused the bone to break, oozing pus and exposed.

Both of these children are in serious need of medical attention. They need to go to two different hospitals in Kampala for their specialized care and the parents have never been outside of rural western Uganda. I am thankful for a friend here who is willing to accompany them on their journey to Kampala and make sure they arrive safely without getting lost. And I'm incredibly thankful for another friend who is willing to check on patients at Mulago Hospital everyday after he finishes his classes at a university campus next door.

Friday and Zawadi are only two of eight patients in the referral process currently. Last week I sent another child with lymphoma to Mulago. The week before I sent a trio of babies with hydrocephalus to Kampala and then on to Mbale's CURE hospital to receive neurosurgery. There is a baby that came to us severely malnourished with a partial cleft palate. She went to Kampala with her mother and received corrective surgery, only to return and have it heal improperly. Now they need to return for a second surgery. Each of these children are precious to our Father and while getting them care is challenging and coordinating it from Bundibugyo is frustrating and difficult, I am thankful that I can advocate for them.

But I come to you, my supporters and friends, asking for prayer. Pray for these children as they are seriously ill, in pain, and forced to travel 8-12 hours by public transportation. Pray for their parents as they enter the big city for the first time and try to find medical facilities and people who understand their Lubwisi language. Pray for doctors and social workers to be empathetic and caring and willing to communicate with me. Pray for me, as I try to keep everyone straight and am "on call" all the time. Pray that the gospel would go forth and God would heal these babies. And pray that the medical costs would be provided--I expect to pay nearly $500 for each baby with hydrocephalus to receive life-saving neurosurgery. If you would like to help offset some of these costs, please contact me. Thank you for your prayers for each of these children!