March 30, 2007 - From Nairobi to Marsabit 

Everyone has been saying that Marsabit is different than any other part of Kenya. Not exactly sure what that means, we’ve been waiting to see. We watched a few example videos at the office this morning so that we could get ideas for some of our projects. The FH/Rwanda Country Director was in one of them - we all made some sort of crazy noise at that, I guess it just evidenced that we are in a strange place and yearning for something familiar.

We picked up our bags from Gracia and said good-bye to Maryann at the desk. I was disappointed Elijah wasn’t there, he’s so friendly. We took cabs to the airport - the guys there were really nice and friendly, it put me at ease a lot. They took our bags out, and then said he’d come back to get us. We watched where he went. We knew we were getting a charter flight, and that it was going to be a small plane - but we had no idea how small!!! My smallest plane yet - a 6 seater, max! Another student and I sat in the back as the lightest, while a different student got to be co-pilot - I was jealous.

It was a 1 ½ hr flight that turned into 2 hours b/c of the headwinds. It was cool to see the African plain pass by below us- but I do think I would have enjoyed it from the top of a lorry even better. That would be so amazing! I guess you have to be a crazy, young American to want to even do something like that.

We looked down and around Nairobi, it was hilly and green. I was surprised. I never imagined that Kenya would be anything but flat desert and grasslands. There was a slum area that could be seen, too, on the outskirts of the city. The real Nairobi, I imagine. I commented to Jaynee that we’ll never get to see that part of it. I guess everything in me bucks against the westernization of places like this - why can’t it just stay the same? Is it too late to let people know that what they have is good too?

Again, looking down, the land changed to brown shrubland - at least, from the air that’s what it looked like. I think it was probably the Africa that we’ve all had in mind, the real thing, the romanticized thing. The thing I want to experience. We could see the different homesteads (of the Maasai?) from the air, circular enclosures. I remember one of the guys talking about walking with his homestay brother to check on the cows at the homes of his different wives- I would so much love to go down and be among those people!

They said it might happen that we would spend a night or two on the field…I wonder where all the land rehab stuff happens? Anywhere in the desert? We all want to go there, see what it’s like. I can’t believe how disappointed I am that it’s not going to be hot and sunny - that's what Africa’s supposed to be! And, for some reason, I’m not that psyched about the reforestation program- right now, I’m much more interested in people. I don’t really know what exactly to think, what direction my thoughts should go in.

We circled around Marsabit before landing - it was surprising how much bigger it was than I expected. As we headed for the landing strip (gravel), we passed over a couple of herds of animals. One little boy stopped what he was doing and looked up to watch the plane pass. I wonder if he’ll be someone I get to meet? Two other guys on bikes stopped to watch us pass over head, and they waved. It felt welcoming- so I waved back. Everyone was wearing jackets, and the wind was blowing…is it really going to be that cold out there??

So good to finally get out of that plane! My legs were cramped and my bum was numb. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it looked under the grey clouds. More like a spring breeze. We got into an old Land Cruiser w/ our stuff and drove down the airstrip and out the sheet-tin gate. There are 2 main roads in Marsabit, Loise told us. For the rumors of rain, it sure was dusty! The driver’s window was open, and we ate our first mouthfuls of Marsabit’s red soils. Mmm. Here we are, on the adventure of a lifetime. What will happen to us?

March 28, 2007 - To be in the minority 

It is an interesting and very enlightening experience to be, for the first time in one's life, (for one semester out of 16 years of schooling so far,) to be so much in the minority that anytime you are in a gathering in which there are even a handful of others your ethnicity you wonder what's going on! For example, the bus station at which we sat for two hours, (because we were dropped off an hour beforehand anyway, and then the bus was an hour late!) waiting for our ride back to "Rrhanda" (that's the phonetic spelling of the Ugandan pronunciation!): When we arrived there were already two Mzungus** sitting in the small crowd of passengers. The four of us made 6. Shortly thereafter, while two of the other students played checkers, yet another student tried to get back to sleep, and I wrote a letter in AJ's journal, two more arrived, (gorilla researchers!) and before the bus got there even one more! Upon the arrival of number 9, one of my fellow students mused aloud, "Man, this must be a fancy bus line or something; look at all of the Mzungus!" (That is just one small, rather trite example, but I trust you get the point.)

March 20, 2007 - Overlooking the old taxi part of Kampala 

There are still beggars in Kampala, but they tend to be older people. The other day, walking through a busy section, I was amazed at the number of deformed adults there were sitting at the street corners, and I was almost sick wondering what had happened to make them like that and put them in that place…

All of that was trumped today. We were walking along, chatting about whatever, and I was making a mental schedule for the work for the evening- find the route over to the Mengo Boys for a quick conference with another student, get back to Namirembe, work on my Econ paper (hateful papers, when you’re on a semester in AFRICA!) ‘til dinner, dinner, group meeting with the Country Director at 7:30 to talk about practicum, then back to the paper until sleep takes over…

I stepped over another curve and was going around the corner when the crowd opened up a little bit. There, in the opening of people, was a person. I think a child. To my shame, I stared, and was relieved when I saw the Ugandans all staring too. A piece of cardboard was between the child and the dusty gray sidewalk. The upper body kind of raised up in the air... but there were no arms. Not whole arms. The right was cut off at the elbow, and the left between the shoulder and elbow. I say a child because the body was small, but perfectly proportioned with the head and thickness of the arms. These were not clean cuts, and though the skin was completely healed, it was not a neat job that was performed in a sterilized operating room.

I looked back again as the child laid it’s head on the piece of cardboard, totally at the mercy of the feet walking all around it, the bicycles that pull up nearby and the occasional boda driver that finds it necessary to ride on the sidewalk. The legs were gone as well, cut off above the knees.

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of poverty in the past couple of years. Living in a place like Haiti, Rwanda, or Uganda, there are too many opportunities to see the unpleasant parts of life- the things you want to believe never happen. It gets hard to see it all- to walk past children begging, or an old woman curled up next to a small child on the sidewalk, or the man who lives under a cardboard box down the hill by the gas station. I can never give them enough money to help them to a new life. I don’t even have the words to say to them. A feeling of guilt washes over me as I see my white feet pass by their calloused dark ones, hoping they won’t notice me passing.

I opened my bag and took out the cookie I had been saving and went back. The child’s eyes were closed as it lay on the cardboard, so I touched its shoulder. There was an expression of exhaustion. I left the bag next to the small pile of 500 shilling coins on the corner of the cardboard. As we turned around again, one of the girls asked me what we had just seen. “There were no arms, no legs,” I said, still stunned. “If there are no arms, how is it going to eat the cookie?” she asked me. I didn’t have an answer.

I wanted to pick this child up. I wanted to stop the world in its tracks and make everyone pause for a moment to weep for the things that have so cruelly been taken from this little body. I wanted to hold this little one, and let it know that there is still love in this world- that whatever terrible, terrible things this little life has had to deal with, has nightmares about, asks Why? To God about…

Child, you are still precious in God’s sight. He loves you with an everlasting love. Please, forgive me for not knowing how to help you. Child, you are loved. Please, know that…please…

March 19, 2007 - Big Things 

Well, can I just say that God continues to amaze me more and more?! Today was an awesome day, and I feel compelled to share some of the events that transpired. First, I woke up this morning very early (and almost in denial) to go to church with Eunice, a receptionist at the Mengo Hospital Dental Clinic where I have been shadowing the last 2 weeks here in Kampala. Eunice is so sweet and invited to take me to her church, Kampala Pentecostal Church (KPC). I have heard so much about this church, as it is quite arguably the largest church in Uganda. They have 5 branches of the church all over Kampala, but Eunice is in the choir at the main church, so my friend and I went along with her. I didn’t realize how big this church would be, but it was really exciting to take part in such energizing praise and worship. I must admit, Africans really know how to praise God through singing! The sermon was also very good, and I left feeling so lifted up. I find Sunday mornings to be so comforting, and I am continually reminded that no matter where in the world I am, I can always find the Lord there. After church, my friend and I were given a ride back to the guest house from a couple who is in the same cell group/bible study as Eunice. The man was a British farmer who had come to Uganda originally to begin some agricultural mission projects. He married a Ugandan woman, and they are now working in the printing industry for Christian organizations. Very interesting couple.

Later today I was attempting to work on my 20-pg. research paper that is due on Wednesday. I normally wouldn’t start so soon, but I was feeling ambitious, so I set out to work on a good chunk of it. Ironically, I received a call from one of our professors who was supposed to meet with another girl in the group. I went down to accompany her while she waited for the other student, and about an hour later, Laura arrived. In the meantime, I bumped into Dr. Cahoon, an orthodontist from Canada who I had randomly met last night. He proceeded to tell me of his busy schedule, and then he invited me to come along to check out a dental school that he is working to renovate. I actually did tag along, and I was introduced to a number of interesting people who are working with Dr. Cahoon and Rotary International to install over $340,000 worth of new equipment and facilities into the dental school here in Kampala. I was shocked at how old and outdated and broken down the other chairs and equipment are that is currently being used, but getting to see some of the vision and hear the amazing story, I was completely excited! Dr. Cahoon had the dream to complete this project in March of 2005, with the goal of opening the improved school on August 17, 2007. Now, 2 years later, it is apparent that his lofty goal is going to become a reality! Dr. C. told me about all the opposition and doubt he has received from other dentists and local professionals when he shared his dream. They told him it was impossible. It just goes to show you how much you can accomplish, though, when you give your plans over to God. It reminds me of the story of Noah building the Ark. As people would go by and scoff and discourage, he continued to work diligently, knowing God had a huge plan in mind.

These are the types of things that I want to be a part of when I “grow up”. I want to give myself and my talents and skills over to Him so that even bigger and better things may be accomplished. Dr. Cahoon invited me to join his group on Saturday to go to some rural areas and work doing dentistry on some mentally-handicapped children. He said it isn’t a very clean or pleasant job, but it is truly amazing to experience. I am pumped, to say the least. I never would have dreamed that I would be here in Africa working with dental missionaries. Now, I can’t imagine missing out on these experiences. I look forward to the next month and all the things I will experience during my practicum, wherever that may be. I just know that whatever it is, God will bless it because it will honor Him! May you continue to give your plans and your dreams over to Him so that He can do big things with you as well. Be bold in your prayers and do not let mediocre living become something you are satisfied with. Let Him do BIG things in you and through you! God bless.

March 17, 2007 - A message from Kenya: Peter 

March 15, 2007 - His name is Jumah 
 

His name is Jumah. He was born in a small village in Busia, Uganda. His mother left his father when he was one year old and because of Ugandan law he was considered his fathers property and left in his care. His new mother hated him and he suffered many abuses from physical and verbal abuse to not being allowed to come home to not being able to have any of the food at meals. He missed out of eleven years of his education because he did not have enough money to go to school, those eleven years he used to fish and collect as much money as he could in order to hopefully be able to save enough money to go to school the next year. When someone told him that Jesus loved him he scoffed, "Eh, who is this Jesus? And why would he love me, everyone hates me." Life for Jumah was bitter but when he became a Christian his entire worldview shifted. He was loved, he had importance, he could do something with his life!

Jumah made it to university. He had THE highest test scores of his entire district and was given a scholarship to go to University for free, of course he excelled.

The first time we went to Jumah's church we were simply expecting it to be like any other African church, he "failed" to mention it to us that he started the church and would also be preaching. Jumah fluently speaks seven languages (and is familiar with about 4 others), he has started numerous churches and organizations, the list of good he is doing for his country goes on and on, (although you would hardly know it, even if you asked him).

Americans look down on Africans. I see it all the time, they sit on this high stool and pity African's because they are poor. Next time you see a child sponsorship video on tv truly watch it- you will only see suffering children with flies on their face and tears staining their cheeks, I am not saying that is not unrealistic but it is in no way the full story. I have seen starving children laugh, I have seen them play, and fight, and play tricks on each other. Children are children no matter where you go, poverty does not take from them their humanity, their intelligence, or their beauty. You must understand someone in order to truly love them, not just pity their circumstances.

Jumah is one of the most intelligent individuals I have ever met. He is able to see the world through a realistic and critical eye that is unquestionably optimistic. He has faith in His Heavenly Father to meet his needs and to allow him to jump out into ministry. Jumah vows that he will be the Secretary General of the United Nations and has been living a plan for how he will be able to do it. Jumah loves his country, talk to him for five minutes and he will soon slip into details of the beauty, strengths, problems, needs, and possible solutions of his country. He is a man who listens and takes everything in and quickly comes up with solutions. There is no doubt in my mind that he will become the Secretary General.

Jumah is but one story. ONE. He is exceptional but he is no exception. Please, don't ever put Africa into a box. They are your brothers and sisters in Christ.

March 7, 2007 - The things that happen when you pray 

Wednesday. No classes (Praise the Lord). Gorgeous, sun-shiny day. Lots to do…

1st- A student and I set out to find a refugee agency in Kampala. We had an address, but didn’t actually have a guess where the street was even located. I had seen a sign for something refugee related back in January, the first week we were here- so we decided to try and find it again. I had a vague idea where it was.

It was a hot day- Haiti hot, actually, which I measure by the amount of sweat rolling down my legs at any given moment. We wandered in the right direction, but soon didn’t know where to turn or how to get where we wanted. We asked for directions, and we sent to retrace our steps. As we were standing on a corner, wondering which way to go next, I saw a bunch of people standing outside a building. Hm, I wonder what they’re doing? No uniforms, it can’t be a school, and that’s a weird place for a clinic. Wait a minute! A bunch of people standing in line like that? They can only be refugees!! “We found them!” We were elated- and scared! What do we do now???

We walked closer- yup, that sign says Interaid! Even better than what we were looking for! How do we get in? What do we say?

We eventually got up the nerve to walk through the doorway, and approached the guard. We used every Luganda greeting she could pull up, and when the guard kept talking she laughed and said, “Sorry, I’m all out of words! I really only know the greetings.” Everyone in earshot laughed, but I’m pretty sure that one them over to us. We explained our mission- students at Makerere University, doing research, etc, etc…

We were invited in, and eventually made it into the office of the administrator. He hadn’t heard the earlier exchange that included the laughter- we had to work hard to win his approval. Brit and I took turns in fervent prayer as the other tried to talk, or explain to the man. At one point, I was on the verge of tears. Refugees are close to my heart because of my work with them in Buffalo, and here, this man seemed to think we were just trying to take advantage with him.

Eventually we had to go- he sent us away with 3 things-a challenge to address refugee issues at all levels; his business card; a signed form/command for a meeting with the Prime Minister of Uganda in order to get permission from him to conduct interviews. If the thing with the PM was meant to dissuade us, we saw it as a challenge.

That afternoon, Brit and I were walking back from the office after tracking down info about the PM. We passed the primary school, and the kids were just finishing a field day- they looked like they were having fun! We stood outside the fence, watching… a few kids saw us, and came out.

We talked for a few minutes, and then one girl, Sarah, asked me, “Are you saved?”

“Yes, I am- are you?”

“Yes, but she (pointing to her friend, Ruth) wants to be saved. Can you talk to her?”

Ruth was smiling shyly, and a bunch of kids ran between us and stopped the conversation. But Sarah was insistent, and a few moments later again brought up the issue of being saved. “Please, talk with her!” So I looked at Ruth, and told her what being ‘saved’ means, of God’s plan to redeem mankind from sin so that we can dwell in Heaven together- all the while trying to keep it at a young girl’s level and through a culture and language barrier- and my own nervousness, I’d never talked with anyone like this before!

I held Ruth’s hand, and we prayed together, and I felt the hands of the children on top of mine and Ruth’s. When we said Amen, it was echoed by many voices and I was given many “thank you’s”, and Ruth was congratulated.

We all had to go our own ways for the evening. It had been a remarkable day. That night, as our group sat together for prayer, my heart was full of so many things, one of them sheer awe at all that had happened. I remembered the primary kids and prayed for them, because the only thing they had asked of us was that we remember them in our prayers.

Please, if you think of it, pray for Ruth, Sarah, and their classmates. As it turns out, they are all children of refugees. The day came full circle in so many ways- especially in the prayer that God would lead us to the right place to meet refugees. I thought He answered in the morning- but maybe it was more the afternoon, where it was an even more divine appointment.

March 5, 2007 - I need your help 

March 1, 2007 - Hard Day 

Yesterday was perhaps the most emotionally taxing day so far. We went to the Murambi Memorial, the location where 45-50 000 Tutsis were killed. It had been the site of a school under construction. The school was never finished or used. Instead, it is now a memorial to the tragedy. During the aftermath, the bodies of hundreds of victims were exhumed and preserved using lime, and now lay in the classrooms of the school. We walked through the classes and saw them. In retrospect, it might have been the hardest thing I have ever done.

At the memorial we met a man with a deep scar on his head. He was a survivor of the massacre. He had survived because he was covered with bodies, but his entire family was killed and remains at the site. I keep wondering why he stays there. And it seems as if we meet so many people with similar stories—their entire families being killed and them being the only survivors. In our minds, when we hear that a family was killed we picture something manageable, maybe 5 people. The Rwandan view of family is much different; it is more like 40 people. Imagine being at a family Christmas, and suddenly being the only survivor.

Rwanda is a beautiful country and I love being here, but there are so many things that I don’t understand. I’m learning what caused the events of the genocide, but I’m struggling to understand them. I was 8 in 1994 when all of this happened. When I was 8 I was still playing with Barbies. When my Rwandan friends were eight, they were hiding in bushes, in swamps, under beds, in latrines, running from a horrific death because they were Tutsi, or part Tutsi, or looked like Tutsis. I’m struggling to find a way to communicate these things because I don’t know how.