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!

Two Years

On the way to my first day in Bundi.

Today marks two years from my first day in Bundibugyo. I landed on a little MAF plane, slightly green from the bumps, and greeted by many smiling faces. Within minutes, the word that characterized the next several weeks came into play: overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the hundreds of kids on the airfield. Overwhelmed by how the car could even make it over the road from the airfield to the mission. Overwhelmed by how much there was to learn. Overwhelmed by how little I knew about the most basic things, like turning my oven on or how to flush the toilet. Overwhelmed by the noises in the ceiling (that turned out to be geckos). Overwhelmed by the foreign sound of Lubwisi. Overwhelmed by how to even tell anyone apart or understand their names.

I still often feel overwhelmed by life here. But, as I reflect today I realize how many things have become normal. It’s normal to do a dance when the electricity returns after being off for a day. It’s normal to have kids (and the occasional adult) yell “Mzungu! How are you?” anytime I step outside of my house. It’s normal to know that the post office and ATM are 30 minutes away on a terrible road and that the closest “supermarket” is 3 hours away. It’s normal to pasteurize milk and cook from scratch. It’s normal to hear noises that used to go under the category of “barnyard animals”, outside my bedroom window. It’s normal to be the minority everywhere I go. It’s normal to worship in a church made of tarps, surrounded by bars, and to have the occasional drunk man stumble in or a visit from a pig. It’s normal to feel sweat dripping down my back by 10 am.

I’ve also found that I’ve learned how to do so many things! I’ve learned how to cook over an open fire and how to pluck a chicken. I’ve learned to lead a Bible study. I’ve learned some Lubwisi and plenty of Ugandan English phrases. I’ve learned how to drive a stick shift car over muddy, mountainous, and sometimes non-existent roads. I’ve learned how to be an accountant for a nutrition program, a manager of an employee, and a social worker for referral patients. I’ve learned how to harvest cocoa and attempt to have a garden while waging war with African ants. I’ve learned how to light my oven and the propane fridge, as well as lighting some safari ants on fire. I’ve learned to kill a rat with a bat and the occasional door or drawer slam.

There have been so many good things and bad things that God has brought forth in the last two years. I am thankful for my teammates here, as the team has more than doubled in size in the last two years. I’ve also had to say some hard good-byes as other teammates have moved on. I am thankful for my friends in the community that bless me with their love and their grace in engaging in a cross-cultural friendship. I struggle to know how to help those friends as they death with issues of poverty, poor health, family pressures, death, polygamy, and trusting God. I am thankful for an improvement in internet access and cell phone reception in the last two years and the way it has helped me stay in touch with loved ones back home. The reality remains that I am far from family and friends and have missed birthdays, special days, and regular days and nothing makes up for talking together over dinner. I am thankful for many things that feel normal and Bundibugyo feeling like home. And yet I feel like I’ve barely made a dent in all there is to learn about culture, language, and how to live here well.

Sherlock--the newest Team Bundi addition

Above all else, I am thankful for the many ways God has changed me in the last two years. He has changed my heart, my plans, my life. It hasn’t come easily. It has come by walking through deep valleys and fiery struggle. It has come with rivers of tears and hours of pain and strife. But—the change is good. And with it comes hope. Hope for God’s extravagant, rescuing, love to permeate my soul and this place, Bundibugyo.

Sweet Summertime

Here in Bundibugyo I often feel like we live in an eternal state of summer. But, the world outside of this place continues on with seasons and we were blessed to have 3 summer interns join us for June and July! They left last week and their joyful, serving presence is missed here. One thing (out of many) that I was so thankful for was their taking photos of daily life here in Bundi. It's not something I get around to often but here is a peek into my life over the last 2 months!

A typical road scene here...

I do love the views on the 8 hour ride from Kampala!

My Bible study at Mt. Zion church

We meet in a "school building" (on the left) next to my friend, Annette's house.

Clovis, my co-leader, with a few of the many kids that are always hanging out.

Summer and Ashley--two of the interns.

Hiking to Nyahuka Falls. I ended up being the "guide" by default--not a great idea.

Of course we ended up asking directions.

There were beautiful views on the way though!

And after much scrambling, bush-whacking, and whatnot we made it!

Hosting a nutrition table at a local health fair.

Lots of people came!

I was very thankful for a great translator.

Weighing babies at the second meeting of our nutrition program.

Dr. Jess measuring height for assessment.

Taking a little girl's MUAC measurement for assessment.

The Nyahuka Health Center--operating theater is white building, darker building is lab and outpatient department. Lots of laundry out to dry too!

A typical roadside view here--love those mountains again!

Also a semi-typical thing--baboons on the roadside! 

Hiking to the Sempaya Hot Springs was a fun outing...

It definitely felt like we were in the rainforest!

We fit three to a motorcycle plus the driver--a first for me!

With Richard, my new boda driver friend.

We had to stop at the equator on our way to safari!

L to R: The Stevens family, myself, Ann, Jess

I just love this sign. I'm not sure why but it makes me laugh every time I see it.

We saw lots of hippos on the boat launch.

They have such stubby legs!

And there were a ton of mongooses hanging out in the shade of our car. Weird!

With Summer and Emily on a rooftop safari drive.

All of Christ School's OVC sponsored students at a meeting.

Cocoa is growing again so we're seeing more of it drying in the sun!

We had a great team retreat over the 4th of July weekend. As you can see, we're a very put-together type of team.

That's better :)

With my Christ School girls' cell group after chapel.

Mama Joyce with Owen and Marvin--some of my favorite people!

And for good measure--the weekend the interns left my house flooded. As you can see, I was not very happy about modeling my gumboots while in the bathroom.

Weekend Warrior

On Friday night I was past my expiration date. I could feel the stress of the week piling, my brain slowing down, the introvert in me screaming for quiet time, the general lack of love and increasing irritability that “good” missionaries shouldn’t struggle with. I stayed up waaaay past missionary midnight (9 pm) until the real midnight in hopes of watching the Olympics opening ceremonies in London. Despite the major advances in technology and Internet in Bundibugyo in the last few years, the opening ceremonies viewing was a flop. Youtube failed to buffer well and we sat watching the spinning wheel more often than the actual footage. We gave up and trudged home. I was beyond exhausted and went to bed thinking to myself “I could really use a mental health day tomorrow”.

Those were fleeting hopes. I woke up the next morning exhausted, happy I could sleep in. I figured I would use the bathroom and head back to bed for another few hours. Nope. As I rolled out of bed, with bleary eyes I noticed my bedside mat was wet. It had rained very hard the night before but as it is rainy season, I didn’t think much of it. It had rained really hard nearly every night last week. But as I got out of bed, I realized something had gone very wrong. My room had a puddle of standing water near the door. When I opened the door and looked around, I considered going back to bed and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Our bathroom had 4 inches of standing water in it. There were puddles throughout the entire house. The front room had a layer of mud and slime amidst the puddles. The kitchen, hallway, and living room were pond-like. The two rooms unaffected? The pantry (where everything is off the floor) and the office (where nothing important is kept).

I went into “emergency mode” when my mind runs at about 100 miles an hour. What to do? Where to start? Josh. I called the team knight in shining armor who is ever rescuing us. Thank goodness he was awake and came over to confirm that yes, indeed, this sucked and was generally quite awful. The next four hours were all consuming clean-up. After receiving the sympathies of my teammates, I called three Ugandan friends and helpers—George, Joas, and Gladys. Pat and Katie from Fort Portal, who were staying with me for the weekend, woke up and sprang into action; making coffee, providing encouragement, and filling buckets and basins with the floodwaters.

When Gladys arrived, she was her typical joyful self. I was struggling to keep it together but she came in, assessed the house, and said “It’s no problem. We will fix it today.” She then merrily started humming to herself as she filled a basin with water. How could I be upset when she was happily humming praise music and her child was hospitalized with malaria??

The day steadily improved—within 4 hours the house was clean and smelling of bleach. I picked up a care package that was full of goodies from my parent’s vacation to Ocean City, NJ. Ann brought me more coffee (I was running out!) and Jess went to the market for me. The power came back on after being off for over 24 hours. And on Saturday night I enjoyed tacos and mojitos with the team, successfully watching mens swimming on the Olympics afterwards.

Life here in Bundibugyo often feels like moving from one crisis to the next. You can’t go very long without feeling the brokenness of the world here. From the annoyances of burning my finger, the power being out, and the internet not working to floodwaters invading my house. Add on the much bigger crises of the area such as famine, cholera and measles epidemics, tribal conflicts, rebel attacks just over the border, and a new ebola outbreak and my shoulders quickly become heavy.

It’d be great to have full redemption now. I’d very much like the suffering to end. But God hasn’t promised a life of ease and perfection as we wait. And I’ve found in living here that suffering, whether it be cancer or a flooded house, opens doors for the Gospel. People suffer more here in a lifetime than I can probably imagine. But being vulnerable before my Ugandan friends; showing them that I desperately needed their help and having a bad day in front of them has a greater effect than I previously realized.

Isaiah 52:7 has greater meaning to me now that I am living in Bundibugyo than ever before. It says:

“How beautiful on the moutains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”

These are not what I would call beautiful feet. Flip flop tan lines, mud caked from cleaning up flood water, bruised and broken nails from hiking the Bwamba Pass. They’re pretty gross and my “foot righteousness” has long vanished. But these feet are a testimony to what God has been doing in my life—a year ago I had beautiful, soft feet because I was laying in bed and teetering on the brink between life and death as I got ready for cancer treatment. Now, my feet are ugly but show just how much I’ve been up to lately. And these feet show the struggle that allows me to identify with my dear Ugandan friends, the ones that I came to serve. Tonight, I am thankful for flood waters and ugly feet.

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.