A Morning in the Life

My alarm goes off and I hit the snooze button (several times). I am thankful the power has stayed on all night, allowing a fan to emit a cool breeze over me and block out the night time noises of goats bleating and neighbors talking. Roll out of bed, enjoy a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Read Streams in the Desert and muddle my way through an Old Testament reading for my chronological-read-the-Bible-in-a-year study (genealogies get old fast but I am enjoying stories that I’m not as familiar with too).

My schedule suddenly clears as a meeting is canceled so I SMS my friend, Mbabazi*, who volunteers at the health center in Nyahuka. She is willing to let me tag along today and tells me she’ll arrive at 9:30. I look over some language study materials as I hope to begin again with a new helper this week. I leave the house at 9:30, knowing that it’s usually best to be late here. I am in Africa, right?

I still beat Mbabazi to the health center but she is right behind me. I greet Rose, a nurse friend, as she is back from a training in Kampala. I hope to spend time with her at the pediatric ward, learning more, soon. Today she is scheduled for the night shift so I decide to go with Mbabazi instead. We end up at the antenatal HIV/AIDS clinic.

The room is overflowing with pregnant women and several husbands that agreed to come along and be tested as well. At first, I feel my white skin as I sit down and hundreds of beautiful, brown faces stare back. But unlike children, they don’t stare for minute upon minute, seemingly without blinking. They return their attention to the health worker that is giving an educational message.

I learn how to do the recordkeeping while Mbabazi interviews each client, asking them their name, age, village, etc. When the pile of kitabos (personal notebooks containing each woman’s medical history) lessens, I stop and take in the room. Over a hundred women, all pregnant, wearing one of three maternity dress styles that must be selling in the market these days. A cluster of men in the back of the room. Benches lined up with a system of “waiting in line” that I don’t understand but everyone else seems to. Sweat dripping off everyone’s face as the sun beats down on the tin roof. A man walks around selling handfuls of peanuts. The occasional group chuckle when the health instructor makes a joke.

Mbabazi and I work together to fill out each woman’s kitabo and record the information in another gigantic book, presumably for government statistics, accountability, and the health center’s records. After a while, I’m amazed at how you can tell a woman’s age by the number of children she has had and vice versa. It seems the average age for a first pregnancy is 16. By the time girls reach my age (21), they’re having their 3rd child. And if a woman in her 30’s comes in, she likely has had 6-8 pregnancies. I also realize the child mortality rate, as many have had a certain number of children but have also lost 1-2 as well.

After each woman is registered, she is examined and tested for HIV, given iron and folic acid supplements, de-worming medicine , and any other treatment needed. As I go back to record the HIV test results, I am encouraged that most come back negative. But I am hit hard by the 21 year-old who tests positive, is pregnant, and the father tests positive as well. Nonetheless, it is good that they have come and the many negative results show that these HIV/AIDS clinics are doing their job in educating the public.

After a while, the kitabos start coming back with no test results written in them. I hear that the lab tech got tired and decided to stop. The women will have to come back and be tested another day. I remember then that Rose was concerned because no one had shown up this morning to work in the pediatric ward. And Mbabazi told me that many of the medicines have run out in the store room. I am discouraged by the lack of life-sustaining resources and committed staff. I wish I could do more.

But, I am encouraged by the staff that are faithful in showing up and their desire to help patients, even with severely limited resources. And I am encouraged by the fathers who have come to be tested for HIV. And I am encouraged by the many negative test results. And I am encouraged by hard-working volunteers like Mbabazi, who are so devoted and are not even paid for their time.

I leave around 2 pm, sweaty and hungry but realizing that most of the women will still be waiting for several more hours before leaving. At which point, they will have an even longer walk home. Access to medical care is hard to come by here and is usually an all day commitment filled with waiting.

I walk home with the equatorial sun blazing, burning my skin. It is a true dry-season kind of day with dust billowing up on the road and everyone moving slowly in the heat. I come home and appreciate a cup of cold water in a whole new way.

*I've changed some names in this post, just in case :)

On Separation

The past few days, I’ve been feeling the separation that living in Bundibugyo brings. Separation from family as they all have dinner together and talk about the twin boys Tony and Rachel are expecting and the new house Scott and Emily will soon be moving into. Separation from friends as they gather from 3 different states to spend a weekend together. Separation from the seasons I’ve known my whole life as I have a suntan while emails from home mention snow. Separation from high-quality and easily accessible healthcare as I wait another few weeks before returning to Kampala and my symptoms worsen. Separation from the lifestyle I had just a few months ago; using washing machines, microwaves, and dishwashers, having blown-dry hair and cute clothes, wearing make-up, driving my own car, a full social agenda and a busy college schedule. Separation from a world where everything makes sense. (I do realize that if I were to return to America now, it would no longer make sense either :)

Despite feeling the distance, I wouldn’t describe myself as being homesick. I am content here in Bundibugyo and pleased that God has placed me here at this time. After nearly 4 months here, I am amazed at all that I’ve learned and the level of comfort I feel with daily life. The moments when I pinch myself and ask “What have I done? What am I doing here?” still pop up (as I'm sure they will throughout the next 2 years) but they’re becoming less frequent.

And for the moments when I feel the separation, I run to Romans 8. I like the variation that the Message brings to this passage that I’ve grown so familiar with:

“The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture…None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us.”

Going Batty

A short term team arrived from North Carolina earlier this week and it has been fun getting to know them and sharing life in Bundibugyo with them. The first day, someone asked me “What is the biggest change you’ve noticed since arriving here 3 months ago? What is now normal that was strange then?” One of the first things that came to mind was that I’ve grown somewhat used to the abundance of creatures that we share our homes with here. I don’t think I’ll ever get entirely used to it but I’m no longer terrified every time a cockroach jumps out of a cookbook or a lizard does laps in our ceiling.

I guess God heard my statement because that night I had a creature adventure at 3 am. I woke up and heard a clicking/whirring noise that sounded like a very large bug. I was thankful for my mosquito net and tried to go back to sleep. After a while I decided to get up and look around with my headlamp and I was in for a surprise. Perched on the mosquito netting at the foot of my bed was a round, furry lump. I quickly realized it was a bat. Gross. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I allowed myself to wake up a little bit and then decided I needed to get the bat out of my room before I could go back to sleep.

I found a pillowcase, stared at the bat for about 3 minutes gathering courage, and then managed to get the bat into the pillowcase. I RAN outside with it, while it was chirping and making unhappy bat noises. I tried to shake it out and let it free but it wouldn’t come out. So I left the pillowcase on our front porch, hoping it would find its way out, and went back to bed.

The next morning, Anna and Pat went outside to say good-bye to a friend. I was still in bed sleeping off my 3 am adventure. Anna saw the pillowcase and realized there was a bat inside. She and Pat were confused as to why someone would put a bat in a pillowcase on our front porch. Had someone tried to put a curse on us?

When I got up, I told them my tale and the batty pillowcase made a lot more sense. The past two nights have been bat-free and I’ve been thankful for good sleep :) You never know what you’ll find here!

The President Comes to Town

On February 18^th, Uganda will hold its Presidential elections and political campaign posters have been plastered everywhere for months. But on Monday, Uganda’s current President Y.K. Museveni came to Nyahuka—a truly historic event! The day began like any other Monday; Zainabo and Susana arrived in the morning ready to wash dishes and clothes (a true blessing in a place where daily life takes such time and effort!). We started to cut up mangoes and heard a wide variety of reports as to when Museveni would arrive. We heard motorcycles beeping in the road and decided to set out in search of the President.

As we drove down the road, I was amazed at the sea of yellow that downtown Nyahuka had become. (Yellow is the color of the NRM; Museveni’s political party) Everyone was searching for the funds to buy official Museveni t-shirts and all kind of campaigning merchandise appeared out of nowhere. You could buy Museveni shirts, baseball hats, visors, noisemakers, badges, and so much more. I’ve never before seen anything closer to true commercialism in Bundibugyo.

We kept driving towards the official venue and the road was literally filled with people walking there, carrying NRM campaign posters on sticks and there was a general feeling of excitement and camaraderie. Our car slowly pushed through the crowds and we entered even more crowds as we got in line for the security checks. It amazed me that there was a metal detector all the way out here! After getting a thorough pat-down, we entered and scoped out a good vantage point to see the action but not be suffocated by a huge crowd. Empty windowsills of a half-finished school classroom set on a hill were perfect. The six of us perched ourselves like birds and enjoyed the sunshine and cool breeze while we waited. More and more people were pouring in, traditional dances began, and we gave into the excitement by buying visors with the colors of the Ugandan flag.

Eventually, soldiers had us move out of the windowsills as we were blocking their view for security purposes. At this point, our mzungu skin came in handy and we were able to sit under one of the two tents seemingly reserved for VIPs. We had fourth row seats to the action and listened to a lot of other candidates as they campaigned for their positions. We listened to Lubwisi and we waited. And waited. And waited some more. We weren’t surprised by the waiting but it was still warm and we’d skipped lunch. My excitement was waning by the time Museveni finally arrived with his entourage but the experience was still fascinating. It was difficult to tell all that was happening since little to none of the dialogue was in English. But it was quite an experience to be sitting in the middle of a political rally in rural Uganda.

I won’t share my personal thoughts about the political situation in Uganda; I don’t feel I’ve been here long enough to make many judgments anyway. But it was an honor to see the President and have such a unique cultural experience so close to my new home of Nyahuka! You can be praying for a peaceful and corruption-free election process as February 18 draws closer too.

A historic event--the first ever traffic jam in Nyahuka.

Christmas in Bundibugyo

I had a great Christmas here in Bundibugyo! It was a little strange to celebrate in the heat and humidity, with a flip-flop suntan, but there were several moments when I thought to myself "this feels like Christmas." And I certainly felt that I understood the sacrifice that our Savior made in coming to this earth in a whole new way this year. Here are a few photos from the several days of festivities! (They're a little out of order :)

Blowing out the candles on Jesus's birthday cake.

So glad I brought these sunglasses from Wal-Mart with me :)

Aidan swinging away.

Church on Christmas morning.

Everyone dressed in their new Christmas clothes.

The spread for Christmas morning breakfast. Yum!

Kym enjoying her sunglasses too :)

Nativity play on Christmas Eve.

Three wise women and two angels for the nativity.

Two More Stories...

Here are the last two interviews I did with Christ School students. I'm looking forward to doing more when the term begins again in February!

Meet Nyangoma Agnes. Her story is one full of pain and hardship but also one of victory. She comes from Buganikere village and enjoys visiting home on term breaks, where she helps in her aunt’s shop and plays with her uncle’s young children. Agnes completed primary school but there was no money for her to attend secondary school. God provided her with a sponsorship at Christ School, where she began to learn about God and the teachings of the Bible. When she came down with smallpox, she thought death was near but after being healed, she began to trust God with her whole life. Two years ago, Agnes’s twin sister died. As Agnes remembers her sister, tears roll down her cheeks and the pain is still great. However, Agnes can still say “God has done great things for me”. She says with confidence that God has always been with her as she has passed through many troubles. She also states that God is for her and not against her, pointing to the evidence as she prepares to graduate from Christ School. Agnes has a passion for math and economics and hopes to one day become a businesswoman. Join us in praying for Agnes and other students of Christ School—that they would have similar stories of triumph and be able to say “God has done great things for me”.

Meet Kansiime Asumini. She calls Bumate village her home and answers my questions in a soft-spoken voice with a smile. We find common ground being the youngest child in our families and she tells me about her favorite Nigerian movie. Asumini recalls both the happy and the sad life-changing moments that have occurred in her nineteen years. She remembers the joy she felt at being accepted at Christ School as well as the discouragement of becoming ill during her first term there. While teachers made preparations for her to return to her home, a friend and fellow student named Miriam, prayed for Asumini. Soon after, there was no more talk of Asumini returning home due to her illness—she had been healed! Remembering God’s healing power, Asumini says she learned that “God has plans for me and He can make a way when there seems to be no way.” As she dreams of what those plans may hold, Asumini hopes to become a journalist, taking photos and writing stories of important events in Uganda. Join us in praying for Asumini as she graduates from Christ School, that her light would shine brightly here in Uganda.

Another Christ School Story

I had hoped to post a story of a Christ School student everyday but sometimes living in Uganda doesn't allow for that! Here is another story though:

Meet Kule Isaiah. At nineteen, he is confident and a born-leader. He eagerly explains to me that “Kule” is the name given to a third born male child. When asked about his journey to Christ School, he responds, “God did me a favor in coming here”. At the age of eight, Isaiah’s father was killed in rebel warfare. Isaiah felt hopeless and feared his future had been lost. His mother remained faithful to God and when Isaiah approached secondary school age, she told him to pray, as there was no money for school. He came to Christ School to interview for a sponsorship but the registrations had already been completed. He still interviewed, hoping for a miracle, and was found to be among the top 10 new students. When God answered Isaiah and his mother’s prayers, his life was changed. As he attended Christ School, he began to learn more about God and His character. Today he boldly proclaims that “God is the father of the fatherless.” Isaiah hopes to graduate from Christ School in one year and dreams of completing a Bible course afterwards. He also hopes to continue on and receive a degree in medicine so that he can give back and care for orphans. Join us in praying for Isaiah and the many other students with promise at Christ School, that they would become strong, Christian leaders of Uganda.

Would you consider blessing future CSB students? I would love to introduce you to one of them! We will have 10 new freshman scholarship students in 2011. You can sponsor a child for $600 a year ($50 a month) or give a one time gift and help fund Christ School's work in shaping the next generation of Ugandans! For more information visit http://www.whm.org/csb. OR just send me an email at chrissychip@gmail.com.