Bundi Nutrition is Back

July 10th was a day I had been eagerly anticipating for about 16 months. After leaving Bundibugyo temporarily for health reasons, a lot of changes occurred within the nutrition program and due to lack of team members and Ugandan employees, the program was closed down. When I returned in January, I had planned to restart the program with the help of my new teammate, Dr. Jessica.

As we assessed the previous program—its successes and failures—and dreamed about what we wanted to do, I became more and more excited. Of course, this is still Bundi, so there were plenty of roadblocks and delays. But finally, on July 10th, we launched our Bundi Nutrition Outpatient Program.

Now, three weeks into the program, there have been a lot of frustrations, surprises, and encouragement. Jess and I have been learning together the ins and outs of starting a program from scratch (thank goodness for some infrastructure laid from the previous program though!), managing a new employee, trying to balance American expectations with the Ugandan culture we live in.

While malnutrition is an overwhelming and daunting problem here, I am encouraged. I am happy to see parents consistently bringing their child to the program. I am thrilled to see them engaged and paying attention to the Bible and public health lessons each week—asking questions and voicing their concerns. And seeing super cute babies each week is a perk to the job too :)

We can certainly use your prayers—that these kids would gain weight and move out of the moderate acute malnutrition zone, that parents would put what they learn to practice and share it with their community, that hearts might be changed through Bible lessons, that God would give us a vision for ways to expand the program and make it more sustainable in the future. As you pray, ask God if you might have a role in partnering with this program. If the answer is yes, email me or click here.

Sunday-Wednesday

It is only Wednesday but it has already been a full week. A few of the things the last four days have included:

• My debut as a driver in Bundibugyo. After one lesson with Josh, I drove home from Bundibugyo Town to Nyahuka with Jess’s assistance. Despite the seat belt gagging me, the clutch getting stuck, and repeatedly “downshifting” into 4th gear rather than 2nd, I managed to get us home without hitting any goats, pedestrians, bodas, or running us off the road.
• A rat in the house. Before we left for our team retreat in Fort Portal, we had a record-setting week of 3 dead rats. Shortly after we arrived home, I saw a dark streak run down the hall as I sat in my bedroom. A rat! After much chasing, screaming, searching, running around with bats and brooms, and more screaming, we pinpointed him in the office. Our solution to his hiding: a baited trap with a towel stuffed under the door. The verdict is still out.
• Visiting my friend Janet in Bundibugyo Town and holding her one month old baby—Tumusiime Hazel. She was chubby, beautiful, and had the softest head of hair!
• Also while in town, there were the typical frustrations: trying to explain what type of light bulb I was looking for was a 10 minute process, the ATM was out of money—and where was the money? Coming from Mbarara (a 6 hour drive away).
• Hearing from several friends about the tribal warfare that went on while we were away. Tribalism is always a difficult thing to explain and is complex with many layers. Either way, people died, houses were burned, and there is a big police presence in the area. Things seem to be cooling off.
• Had our first nutrition program meeting!! Despite challenges that came up at 9 pm the night before, it was a great day. We assessed about 30 children; enrolling 14 in the program, sending 4 to be admitted in the paeds ward due to severe acute malnutrition, and congratulating 12 mothers for feeding their children well, as their children were not malnourished. We couldn’t have done it without 3 very helpful volunteers from Mt. Zion church (my home church here) and many answered prayers.
• Reading through the stories of missionaries who have lived here over the years. Travis had them email him their Bundibugyo experiences in a “5 minute” version for our team retreat. Most were more than 5 minutes :) But it was fascinating to read through them—to see how much Nyahuka has changed in the last 20 years, to be inspired by their courage, to be encouraged by their weaknesses. It’s great to know I’m part of a much larger story and cloud of witnesses here.
• Sending my friend, Bahati, off to university. She is headed back to nursing school for her next to last term. It has been great to have her around the last month and I’ll miss visiting her.
• The many administrative tasks that fill my life here—organizing referral patient cases, emailing Christ School sponsors, sending what felt like hundreds of emails as I ironed out my parents’ visit in October (hooray!!) and my doctor appointments in December (boo…)
• Reaping a harvest in my garden; cucumbers, okra, cilantro, and more! Battling the ants that are ruining my sweet corn and making trails through the garden.
• Resetting the voltage stabilizer at least six times a day—thank you God that Josh is bringing us a new one from Kampala soon!
• Realizing that I’ve now spent a full 12 months in Bundibugyo, despite a long span in the middle. Happy one year anniversary! There are many days that this place feels like home, many days that I wonder what in the world I am doing here, and many days that include a bit of both! I’m also reminded of where I was a year ago—healing from my second surgery. God has brought me a long way in a year!

My First Health Fair

On June 28, I attended what I’m guessing was the first public health fair ever in Bundibugyo. Since May I had been volunteering once a week at a local NGO, Bundibugyo Hands of Hope. The organization itself is amazing—a human rights advocacy group started by Ugandans for Ugandans. The founder and director is a graduate of Christ School who continued on to receive his university degree. What makes him unique is that he came back! The few students who are able to receive higher education rarely return to Bundibugyo but the few that do return have a heart to help the place they came from.

As I visited BUHAHO (abbreviation) and heard about their plans for an “exhibition” of sorts, I saw a great opportunity for public health education. Collaborating together, we came up with the idea of stalls covering a variety of topics including nutrition, agriculture, education, savings, sanitation, and spiritual needs. The fair was held at a local school in Bundimbele; a school that BUHAHO was already investing in.

The week of the fair, I found myself working feverishly—homemade laminating of visual aids using contact paper from America, buying bags and bags of produce from the market to demonstrate with, typing up a lesson plan in simple English, coordinating transport of some donations to the site, and so on.

The day came and despite my worries about rain (it had been pouring off and on for quite a few days straight), the fair was a great success! I was paired with a wonderful translator—a local farmer with a great understanding of English. Together, we gave the same lesson about nutrition at least twenty times. As groups of adults and students came around to our stall, it was so encouraging to see them engaged in learning and asking great questions.

The lesson was simple enough; grouping foods into three groups (body building, energy giving, and body protecting) and then teaching that you should eat three times a day and each meal should have something from each of the groups. 3 x 3 was our motto! I also included a visual price comparison—attempting to demonstrate that nutritious foods are locally available and inexpensive.

My mom’s job as a nurse includes a lot of health fairs. And I’m quite sure that this did not look like any of the ones she has attended! But, as I looked around, I was so encouraged. Ugandans were teaching each other about such valuable and life-giving things; things that will bring development to Bundibugyo. I was privileged to be a part of it and I learned a few things myself!

Therapeutic Gardening

There are lots of reminders here in Bundibugyo that life is fragile. Emaciated babies in the pediatric ward at the health center. A phone call from a referral patient's mother--the child died of pneumonia in Kampala. Rumors of a cholera outbreak in the area as a measles epidemic winds down.

In a place where life is difficult and often far outside of my control, I have found some ways of coping. I obviously find myself running to Jesus more often here. But there are other things too--like cooking. Oh how I love to cook here! The absence of convenience foods or even semi-prepared foods forces you to learn to cook from scratch. And the kitchen is my sanctuary. There is something comforting about mindlessly chopping vegetables at the end of the day to unwind. Listening to my iPod as I create a delicious reward for making it through another day.

I've recently discovered another therapeutic activity--working in my garden. I first attempted flower gardening when I was in the U.S. last summer. Stuck at home, not feeling well, processing the life change of cancer, I was encouraged as I watched the seedlings I planted turn into big, beautiful, healthy flowers. I needed a sign of new life as I was fighting for my own to return.

Here my desire for fresh vegetables (that aren't available) and feeling a sense of accomplishment as things grew led me to plant a garden. First, I had to fence in an area so that our dogs wouldn't run through it or sit on the seedlings. They seemed to think their job was to incubate the tiny little shoots by firmly planting their butts on top of them. Not helpful--they're plants, not eggs. That aside, I employed some neighborhood kids to put up a fence and turn the earth a bit.

I longingly thought of Willy's Gardening Center at home as I planted each item from seed, rather than waltzing in and buying trays of already growing plants. But now, about three months after my first round of planting, I noticed some fruit for my labors last night! Photos are below (mostly for my mom but you can check them out too :)

There is something wonderful about going out and digging in the garden; working up a sweat not just from standing still but from actually working hard. Seeing green shoots magically sprout up a week after planting seeds. Ripping out the weeds that just love to take over here in the jungle. And when I take that first bite of fresh green beans, a sun-ripened tomato, or crunchy okra, I think it will taste extra delicious since it came from a seed I planted!

the garden--complete with locally made fence

baby green beans!

baby cucumber!

Moringa--the miracle tree

green tomatoes

tiny okra

enjoying a sunflower bloom inside

and a zinnia for good measure

And something else that makes me super, duper happy: a new ceiling fan installed by Josh!

Staying in Bubandi

Last week I was able to spend 4 days in Bubandi with my Ugandan mother, Joyce. She and I got to know each other pretty well when I was in Bundibugyo before and I hadn’t spent much time with her since I’ve been back. I was excited to not only spend time with her but stay at her home “out in the bush”. When I returned 4 days later, Nyahuka looked like an absolute, buzzing metropolis. My time spent with her included:

• Learning how to cook over an open fire. And struggling to withstand the wood smoke in her chimney-less, windowless kitchen. I think I smelled like a campfire for about 2 days after getting back but I was proud of myself when I made lunch for us on my last day.

• Wearing Joyce’s shiny, silky too-big-for-me long sleeved shirt. It is rainy season here and the mosquitoes were relentless but I had forgotten to bring a long sleeved shirt. Thanks to Mama Joyce’s shirt I didn’t get completely eaten!
• Visiting friends and being introduced as her daughter. People were warm and welcoming (as Ugandans are) and were duly impressed by my limited Lubwisi.
• Chatting while washing a mountain of dishes and leaving them to dry in the sun.
• Listening to rats rustling around her house and night and telling Joyce that I was terrified of them. She found this quite hilarious. She told me her great fear was of chameleons. I found this quite hilarious. After getting very little sleep the first night, I wore earplugs the following nights and tucked my mosquito net in very tight. I slept better :)
• Realizing as we talked how it really is true that everyone is related here. I thought small-town Maryland was bad but it’s crazy!
• Listening to one of the two local stations that broadcasts in Lubwisi—the Voice of Bundibugyo, 93.0 FM. The radio was on a lot. Most songs I didn’t recognize, let alone understand. But at one point Maroon 5 came on. A nice surprise.
• Shading with Owen and Marvin, two little boys that I think are Joyce’s nephews.

• Laughing with Joyce about Nabalongo’s picky eating habits. She is Joyce’s elderly mother and after her many years on this earth, she knows what foods she likes and how she likes them. She is an incredibly sweet lady who only speaks Lubwisi. I wish I could talk with her more and hear her story—she has lived in the bush of Uganda her whole life, was a co-wife, survived Idi Amin and a war. And those are just the things I know of.

• Explaining a microwave to Joyce. Not sure how we got on the subject but she was shocked by the idea of it taking less than one hour to cook a meal!

Loss and Weariness

“No chilling winds nor poisonous breath can reach that healthful shore; sickness sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more. I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promised Land.” –On Jordan’s Stormy Banks

This week has been characterized by loss. It began on Monday morning; I was in Bubandi staying with my friend Joyce and got a phone call. Our beloved dog, Jesse, had died in the night. She died heroically—killing a 6 foot cobra in our yard. Jesse was a truly African dog who protected us with her howling and her snake killing skills. Chloe, her mother and companion, has been subdued and sad this week too. I went out to tell Joyce about the sad news of Jesse and she told me of a neighbor’s toddler who died at the health center on Sunday night too. My sadness over Jesse was quickly put in perspective.

I attended the burial of the toddler and later found out that the child died of pneumonia—something kids just don’t die of in America. She could have been saved too but the night shift nurse didn’t show at the health center so no one knew that her condition worsened during the night. Sadness at the brokenness of the system here and realizing it does indeed result in lost lives.

Wednesday I went to visit my friend Annette. She had been “in the village” visiting her family because of an aunt’s lost battle with cancer. Cancer is not really curable here. Not only did she attend the burial of her aunt but another aunt died the next day. And two days later a baby in the same family died of malaria. So, so sad.

Last night the Johnson’s baby bunny was acting lethargic and strange; “rabbit in shock” was googled and attempts to save the bunny were made but I learned this morning that it died. Not an hour later I got a phone call. A friend of mine who is just a few years younger than me lost her father last night. He was a businessman and driver, delivering goods all across Uganda. The rumors are that he fell asleep at the wheel of his truck and drove off the road. Whatever happened, he is gone, and my heart ached for my friend imagining the shock and grief she experienced this morning.

School begins here on Monday and the requests at the door have become more numerous and more frantic as the week has worn on. Many people have true needs and no one to help them. Others have family that can help them but they try “the whites” first. Many have relationships with missionaries that have been here in the past and they want me to be a liaison, sending their requests to them. It is exhausting to hear each person’s story, sift through fact and fiction, and most of the time, have to say “no” and see disappointment.

Add to that my own problem of now being a 23 year old “cancer survivor/patient”. My health insurance through WHM has changed in the last few months--none of my doctors are in network anymore and the deductible has quadrupled. Trying to navigate insurance in the U.S. was challenging enough last year; but with a new policy and trying to do it in the bush of Uganda, it is near impossible. Many emails sent, struggles to figure out if the hard-to-procure prep drugs I’ll need in August for a post-treatment scan will be available or not, whether they’ll be covered by insurance or not, just how much money this will all cost. All of it is annoying. The true blow: being reminded that “cancer” is now attached to all medical records at age 23; an age when many of my friends haven’t seen a doctor for anything more than the flu in the last two years.

Watched “God Grew Tired of Us” this afternoon; still not sure if it was a good idea or not. Either way, it is a fabulous documentary about Sudan’s Lost Boys that you should watch. But today, it left me feeling sad and a little distraught. I think it is the first time that I’ve seen it since living in Africa. It was strange to feel like I connected more with the scenes that took place in Sudan than the ones in the U.S. Between all the loss this week has brought, the many struggles that I’m surrounded by here, my own challenges, and being reminded of the pain around the globe, I find myself weary.

I am weary and I find myself asking the so common question “How can a loving God allow such pain and heartache in this world?” I don’t have an answer to that question. But I am certain of one thing right now—this world is not my home. I am weary but I eagerly anticipate going home, where the struggles are finished and the tears are wiped away.

Total Stream of Consciousness

It’s Friday night and it’s been a busy week. I’d love to share some thoughts but I can’t organize them into a cohesive post. So prepare yourself for my stream of consciousness post!

-Had two really great conversations with Ugandans here in Bundi this week. Both included thoughts about sustainability of projects, the move in our team focus from aid toward development, and honesty about struggles that being a “mzungu” brings and the struggles of our Ugandan brothers and sisters.

-A series of sad sights on Thursday: seeing a girl having a seizure on the side of the road and not being sure of how to help; knowing she likely doesn’t have access to the medicines that epileptic children could get in America. A severely malnourished boy at the health center; unsure of his age but probably around 10 years old--bald, lacking pigment, vacant and curled up, a living skeleton. The pediatric ward was overflowing with patients too—many on mattresses on the floor—due to a measles outbreak and it currently being the “hungry season” here.

-Stood in line at the ATM for 1.5 hours on Wednesday. I arrived and the machine was out of money. After it was loaded with money, the line in front of me quickly grew from 5 people to about 15, as people came out of no where to “resume” their places in line. Every person had their ATM card plus 5-10 of their friends, resulting in many transactions and very little movement in the line. I finally made it to the front and actually entered the little room with the ATM in it. 2 men plus the security guard joined me in the room (banking is rarely a private affair here). I managed to get some money out using my card but by the time I got my teammate’s card in the machine, it was out of money. Bummer. Oh how I miss drive thru ATMs.

-Other conveniences I miss include: a washer and dryer, highways, a dishwasher, take-out restaurants, and buying produce that doesn’t require haggling.

-I’m noticing more people saying “Amaaniye Lubwisi” (she knows Lubwisi) when I talk with them in the road. I rarely feel like I’m making any progress in language learning but I do catch more and more words and I can communicate some very basic ideas (even if they aren’t conjugated correctly).

-Having relationships with the caretakers of my referral patients is an unexpected blessing. I saw Silivano’s father in town and had a nice talk with him as we walked in the same direction for a bit. Also met a grandfather whose granddaughter was referred to another city for physical therapy after having bacterial meningitis and seizures. Found out he is a believer and regular attender at Mt. Zion church; a small town just keeps getting smaller!

-Went to the market on Thursday and tried to buy mangoes (so happy for mango season!). Realized after putting a bunch in my bag that I couldn’t pay for them. Not because I didn’t have money but because I only had a very large denomination bill (worth about $8) and the total for the mangoes came to 40 cents. Getting change is not easy here; 3rd world problems, as some might say.

-On Tuesday night, a friend working for Pamela notified us that we had a bit of a “red ant problem”. In fact, there were thousands of safari ants clustered on the rocks outside our kitchen door.We called Josh for help and since we were out of paraffin, he loaded pure gasoline in a spray bottle, lit a match, and burned the ants. It was quite therapeutic to spray the gas, watch the fire “poof!”, and know the biting ants were gone.

-After a long and busy week filled with meetings, many knocks at the door,and a myriad of difficult requests to consider, I’m looking forward to a 4 day homestay with my Ugandan mother, Joyce, starting tomorrow. She lives in the village where it is peaceful, quiet, and few people know me (yet). I’m excited to immerse myself in Ugandan life, hopefully learn some Lubwisi, and to have some quiet time praying with Mama Joyce.