Irony:
Choosing to turn off the lights on the night we actually have the generator on because although seeing what you are cooking is great, the disturbance of the swarm of flying white ants outweighs the pleasure of having the light on.
Wearing flannel pj bottoms, long sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, socks, and a fleece hat to bed because it is so cold you can’t sleep. Living in a tropical equatorial country isn’t as warm as it sounds. Never mind the fact that the equator runs through Uganda.
Immensely disliking the four movies you brought with you, because even though they were some of your favorites back home, now that they are your only option they seem somehow repulsive.
Things I never learned in Kindergarten:
How to sort rice effectively; how to sort rice by candle light, how to sort anything without making a mess (rice, peas, beans…)
How to settle the debate between using the last of the water for bathing, one last thermos of water for some cups of tea, or washing that dirty shirt/skirt.
How to hand wash clothes, blankets, etc.
How to walk while holding a candle and not burn myself, blow out the candle, or trip due to depth perception issues; how to hold a candle so you can see in front of you.
Random Thoughts:
I found it hard to understand the feast/famine mentality we find here. When it rains and the tanks are full of water, people carelessly leave the faucet on, water is wasted. When the harvest comes people eat like there is no tomorrow. When the paycheck comes, it is spent immediately (“the money is eaten” they say here). I didn’t really get it until mom sent me a bag of licorice. After scarfing down half the bag in mere moments it hit me…. I am eating like there is no tomorrow. If I ration the licorice I will get to enjoy it so much more! [on a side note, licorice is amazing, thanks momma!!!]
Fun Quotes:
Eating with my Benja boy, I finish and he asks “wahaaga?” (are you satisfied?) “nahaaga” I reply. He continues eating and in a singsong voice tells me “I don’t haaga” hehe… mixed Spanish and English is Spanglish, mixed Rukiga and English makes Rukigish?
Recounting a story of how a girl tried to steal my bag and phone during a soccer game, Julius says incredulously “Really, stealing from Aunt Le! that is wrong”
New Vocabulary:
“Somehow” – amazing how I rarely used this word while stateside, but now can’t seem to speak more than three sentences without it.
“Ever” – I catch this word filtering in my blog posts…. It is used in place of “always” or “often” or used to make a point. “you are ever hungry!” “I am ever wondering” etc
“Can you imagine”- used as an expression of amazement, kind of like “really?!”
Friday, April 30, 2010
Rest
The bright light of the full moon weaves in and out of the leaves of the banana trees. Fallen rain drops glisten in the grass, and the world seems to be a friendly place tonight. Crickets, toads, and a variety of other creatures join in the evening symphony as fireflies dance among the trees and tall grasses. Even posho-beans seems a bit more palatable this evening as I stare up at the moon. The stars hide behind a veil of misty clouds, their usual splendor lost tonight in the bright moonlight.
I am almost content; almost lost to the beauty of the Africa that I am coming to know. My quiet solitude, a time for resting before heading in the house to begin the nightly routine with the children, is disturbed by a growing dread for “the night”.
I didn’t understand the fear of “the night” when I first came. Now I am catching glimpses, and I must admit, a sense of “disquiet” is growing inside of me. Night is no longer welcomed as a time for resting, a peaceful time of quiet, a time when you sleep, and your world sleeps with you. Night is the time for Night Dancers, for Burglars, for wild animals to roam, and for mosquitoes. Night is a time of anonymity, where deeds are committed that no one is held accountable for. Night is a time of dreams. Night is a time when fears seem larger than life, and when sleep is not found.
Here at the children’s home it is hot. Mbarara steams as sun and water collide head on each day. The sticky heat can be almost overlooked during the day as breezes cool your sweating forehead. At night though, windows closed, the heat becomes oppressive. Mosquitoes take full advantage of every inch of exposed skin, seemingly undeterred by nets, bug spray, citronella oil, and swatting hands. You can hear them coming, the attack is vicious and constant. Survive the first onslaught and you may get a few hours rest until the next attack at 4 am.
Sleeping in a new place generally takes a few nights of adjusting before rest truly comes. Here though, rest is hard to find each night as I am plagued by fears unfounded. I fear that in sleep I may not hear a child calling out for help. I fear I may not hear if a trespasser is checking the locked doors, looking for a way in. I fear that the doors aren’t actually locked, that the keys are lost, or that the doors won’t be opened in time if there is an emergency. I fear the mosquitoes.
My mind runs as I search for ways to share the burdens of these children. My heart grieves for the hurts they have shared with me throughout the day. I rest my hands on their foreheads, I hug them, I pray with them, I hold them, and I tell them not to fear. Their fears are becoming mine.
In exhaustion I become more susceptible to the fears I hear shared throughout the day. There are rarely monsters hiding under beds here; the night is dangerous enough without them. Rats. Mosquitoes. Wild Dogs. Night Dancers. Burglars.
The full moon now seems less friendly. The banana plantation is shrouded in shadows. Strange noises come from all around me; insects creeping and crawling, hidden creatures communicating one to another. The cold wet grass sends chills up my spine as I walk through the field towards the house. I look for the stars, a familiar comfort, but they are hidden from view. Posho beans sits like a rock in my stomach, the last bite moving slowly and painfully down my throat.
I spoke truly when I said many of these fears are unfounded. They are stealing my sleep, but they are illegitimate. I am not the only one here to watch over these children. Patrick and Wellen, two of my UG brothers are here, sleeping on opposite ends of the compound, one ear ever open to the sounds of the night. The cook/door locker / guard is faithful to do his job; I hear the doors as he checks the locks- the padlocks resounding against the metal doors. Rebekah sleeps in the bunk above me. These details are readily overlooked in my tired thoughts.
I enter the home, sit with the children, and listen to their conversations. After dinner we gather together. I read a bible story, one of the boys reads Ps 23, and one of the girls reads two short stories for the youngest children. A child looks for the drum as we begin singing, children joining in, clapping their hands and leading the verses at will. I ask for a second song and from that point on the children take the lead. Two songs later a young boy leads us in prayers. Lots of hugs given as the children all make sure they tell me goodnight. I inform the older boys that quiet time begins in 30 minutes and head to my room.
The crickets and toads continue their symphony. Thanks to the rain today the evening humidity is diminished. I kill the two mosquitoes I see in my room and prepare for bed. As I sit here typing I feel the fears easing. Confessing my concerns to Patrick he admonishes me, “I am on duty, you rest in peace, I will listen for you”. My sweet children are tucked in, ready to sleep, knowing they are loved and no longer worrying about the concerns of today. Perhaps tonight rest will come.
I am almost content; almost lost to the beauty of the Africa that I am coming to know. My quiet solitude, a time for resting before heading in the house to begin the nightly routine with the children, is disturbed by a growing dread for “the night”.
I didn’t understand the fear of “the night” when I first came. Now I am catching glimpses, and I must admit, a sense of “disquiet” is growing inside of me. Night is no longer welcomed as a time for resting, a peaceful time of quiet, a time when you sleep, and your world sleeps with you. Night is the time for Night Dancers, for Burglars, for wild animals to roam, and for mosquitoes. Night is a time of anonymity, where deeds are committed that no one is held accountable for. Night is a time of dreams. Night is a time when fears seem larger than life, and when sleep is not found.
Here at the children’s home it is hot. Mbarara steams as sun and water collide head on each day. The sticky heat can be almost overlooked during the day as breezes cool your sweating forehead. At night though, windows closed, the heat becomes oppressive. Mosquitoes take full advantage of every inch of exposed skin, seemingly undeterred by nets, bug spray, citronella oil, and swatting hands. You can hear them coming, the attack is vicious and constant. Survive the first onslaught and you may get a few hours rest until the next attack at 4 am.
Sleeping in a new place generally takes a few nights of adjusting before rest truly comes. Here though, rest is hard to find each night as I am plagued by fears unfounded. I fear that in sleep I may not hear a child calling out for help. I fear I may not hear if a trespasser is checking the locked doors, looking for a way in. I fear that the doors aren’t actually locked, that the keys are lost, or that the doors won’t be opened in time if there is an emergency. I fear the mosquitoes.
My mind runs as I search for ways to share the burdens of these children. My heart grieves for the hurts they have shared with me throughout the day. I rest my hands on their foreheads, I hug them, I pray with them, I hold them, and I tell them not to fear. Their fears are becoming mine.
In exhaustion I become more susceptible to the fears I hear shared throughout the day. There are rarely monsters hiding under beds here; the night is dangerous enough without them. Rats. Mosquitoes. Wild Dogs. Night Dancers. Burglars.
The full moon now seems less friendly. The banana plantation is shrouded in shadows. Strange noises come from all around me; insects creeping and crawling, hidden creatures communicating one to another. The cold wet grass sends chills up my spine as I walk through the field towards the house. I look for the stars, a familiar comfort, but they are hidden from view. Posho beans sits like a rock in my stomach, the last bite moving slowly and painfully down my throat.
I spoke truly when I said many of these fears are unfounded. They are stealing my sleep, but they are illegitimate. I am not the only one here to watch over these children. Patrick and Wellen, two of my UG brothers are here, sleeping on opposite ends of the compound, one ear ever open to the sounds of the night. The cook/door locker / guard is faithful to do his job; I hear the doors as he checks the locks- the padlocks resounding against the metal doors. Rebekah sleeps in the bunk above me. These details are readily overlooked in my tired thoughts.
I enter the home, sit with the children, and listen to their conversations. After dinner we gather together. I read a bible story, one of the boys reads Ps 23, and one of the girls reads two short stories for the youngest children. A child looks for the drum as we begin singing, children joining in, clapping their hands and leading the verses at will. I ask for a second song and from that point on the children take the lead. Two songs later a young boy leads us in prayers. Lots of hugs given as the children all make sure they tell me goodnight. I inform the older boys that quiet time begins in 30 minutes and head to my room.
The crickets and toads continue their symphony. Thanks to the rain today the evening humidity is diminished. I kill the two mosquitoes I see in my room and prepare for bed. As I sit here typing I feel the fears easing. Confessing my concerns to Patrick he admonishes me, “I am on duty, you rest in peace, I will listen for you”. My sweet children are tucked in, ready to sleep, knowing they are loved and no longer worrying about the concerns of today. Perhaps tonight rest will come.
Brutus, Lucius, Hermes, and The Yellow One
I still haven’t seen Brutus. He is ever illusive; I guess that’s why he is still alive and still growing. I have however caught three other visitors.
Hermes: cute little lizard who really likes Bekah’s backpack. I have caught him in there twice now, and released him twice. He isn’t the brightest, but since I saw him eating a spider, we decided to keep him around. He isn’t much thicker than my thumb and no longer than my hand. I think each time I catch him he gets so scared he goes into a coma of sorts- so I just open the bag where I want him released and let him come out after I leave.
Lucius: kind of bigger lizard who has a weird love of our black slip. Likes to hang out there and chill with us. Has NO FEAR of Bekah and I, we can be walking around our room and he will be casually crossing the floor, climbing the wall, and chillin’ on the clothes we hang up. (no respect, I tell ya!!) Lucius has blue dots along both sides. He is crazy territorial though, and hence we meet: “the yellow one”.
Yellow One: Let me give you a little background- Lucius uses the wall pathways like Brutus does. Only he seems to be more of an adolescent daredevil; he likes to jump (or tries to at least). Bekah was washing her hands in our black basin one dusky evening when she was startled by Lucius trying to climb up her arm. I was proud of her for not screaming bloody murder! Seems our daredevil Lucius was trying to jump from one side of the “bathroom” to the other; one partial wall/road to the next. He fell into our conveniently placed basin. The very next day I was sitting on my bed reading when I heard a thud.I thought Bekah had fallen or dropped something. Only Bekah wasn’t there… cautiously I walked to the “bathroom” and looked around. Lucius was trying to bite the head off “the Yellow One”. He had YO by the throat and was wrestling around in the basin, totally unconcerned that he and YO had just fallen from the ceiling. I yelled at the two fighting critters and told them to knock it off. Bekah came in to see the show and we decided to evict them for fighting.
I put a pair of socks on my hand since we don’t know if they are poisonous and carried the basin outside. I unceremoniously dumped the fighting lizards out on the grass and said good riddance. By the time Bekah and I had gone back inside and began settling in, I heard the “oh so familiar” scurry…. Lucius was back. Our eviction was short lived.
The next day (and no, I am not kidding) I came home from school to find YO and Lucius back in the basin. Seems they had reached a stalemate and were on opposite sides working hard to ignore one another. Since they weren’t fighting I decided to let them go on the floor. (and for those of you who are freaking out about me letting two lizards loose in my house, let me remind you about the spiders, bed bugs, and other biting things…lizards are way easier to deal with)
At least life isn't boring...
Hermes: cute little lizard who really likes Bekah’s backpack. I have caught him in there twice now, and released him twice. He isn’t the brightest, but since I saw him eating a spider, we decided to keep him around. He isn’t much thicker than my thumb and no longer than my hand. I think each time I catch him he gets so scared he goes into a coma of sorts- so I just open the bag where I want him released and let him come out after I leave.
Lucius: kind of bigger lizard who has a weird love of our black slip. Likes to hang out there and chill with us. Has NO FEAR of Bekah and I, we can be walking around our room and he will be casually crossing the floor, climbing the wall, and chillin’ on the clothes we hang up. (no respect, I tell ya!!) Lucius has blue dots along both sides. He is crazy territorial though, and hence we meet: “the yellow one”.
I put a pair of socks on my hand since we don’t know if they are poisonous and carried the basin outside. I unceremoniously dumped the fighting lizards out on the grass and said good riddance. By the time Bekah and I had gone back inside and began settling in, I heard the “oh so familiar” scurry…. Lucius was back. Our eviction was short lived.
The next day (and no, I am not kidding) I came home from school to find YO and Lucius back in the basin. Seems they had reached a stalemate and were on opposite sides working hard to ignore one another. Since they weren’t fighting I decided to let them go on the floor. (and for those of you who are freaking out about me letting two lizards loose in my house, let me remind you about the spiders, bed bugs, and other biting things…lizards are way easier to deal with)
At least life isn't boring...
Learning Rukiga
Rukiga is hard. My brain hurts most days as I try to sort out all of the different words and sounds and so on and so forth. But I am trying! Many of the students are willing teachers, and they love hearing me repeat various words and phrases.
I have discovered something: when my kids speak in Rukiga to me, I can generally hear what they are saying. When other people speak in Rukiga to me, I have a hard time. By “my kids” I mean the kids I have known for four years, the kids I met in 2006. Somehow it is easier to hear them…
I had a “beginning of term exam” when I first arrived and yesterday I had “paper one, end of term exam”. I got an 86%. Part A was making singular words plural. It is not as easy as adding an “s”. Ekikopo becomes ebikopo, ebafu becomes amabafu, etc. Part B was greetings: I was given the greeting and had to write the response. Part C was tricky; I had to introduce myself, with 5 ideas. Are you ready??
Amaziina gangye ninye R. Leah. Ninduga Amerika, kwonka hati ndi Kishanje. Nkareeba enkoko, empunu, embuzi, ente, entama, na ebikooko Kishanje. Hariyo ebikooko munonga hanu. Tindakunda ebikooko, kwonka nindakunda embwa na kappa. Nkurya omuceeri, emondi, emboga, karoti, na ebihimba. Hariyo hishomera, KHHS. Nkuyra posho ebihimba a KHHS.
I got 8/10 on this section, munonga should have been byingi, and nindakunda should have been ninkunda. Want the translation?
My names are R Leah. I am from America, but now I stay in Kishanje. I see chickens, pigs, goats, cows, sheep and wild animals in Kishanje. There are many wild animals here. I don’t like wild animals, but I like dogs and cats. I eat rice, potatoes, greens, carrots, and beans. There is a school, KHHS. I eat posho beans at KHHS.
Ok, not the most brilliant essay ever written, but I tried!
Part D was writing numbers one through 18. “emwe, ibiri, ishatu, ina, itaano, mukaaga, mushanju, munaana, mwenda, ikumi….” And Part E was translation. I was given 20 Rukiga words to translate into English. I scored 15/20 there…
Paper Two is ready and waiting for me. I haven’t looked at it yet cause I want to revise some more before attempting it.
I love hearing the kids giggle when I say a funny word, at least I do on most days… and it is great proving the snotty ones wrong when they say I don’t know any Rukiga. My faithful teacher NJ is strict but fair, although since handing back paper one he has been talking to me only in Rukiga. And when I reply in English he sternly says “gamba Rukiga!” Ok, Speak Rukiga, I will…. Some day perhaps even fluently.
I have discovered something: when my kids speak in Rukiga to me, I can generally hear what they are saying. When other people speak in Rukiga to me, I have a hard time. By “my kids” I mean the kids I have known for four years, the kids I met in 2006. Somehow it is easier to hear them…
I had a “beginning of term exam” when I first arrived and yesterday I had “paper one, end of term exam”. I got an 86%. Part A was making singular words plural. It is not as easy as adding an “s”. Ekikopo becomes ebikopo, ebafu becomes amabafu, etc. Part B was greetings: I was given the greeting and had to write the response. Part C was tricky; I had to introduce myself, with 5 ideas. Are you ready??
Amaziina gangye ninye R. Leah. Ninduga Amerika, kwonka hati ndi Kishanje. Nkareeba enkoko, empunu, embuzi, ente, entama, na ebikooko Kishanje. Hariyo ebikooko munonga hanu. Tindakunda ebikooko, kwonka nindakunda embwa na kappa. Nkurya omuceeri, emondi, emboga, karoti, na ebihimba. Hariyo hishomera, KHHS. Nkuyra posho ebihimba a KHHS.
I got 8/10 on this section, munonga should have been byingi, and nindakunda should have been ninkunda. Want the translation?
My names are R Leah. I am from America, but now I stay in Kishanje. I see chickens, pigs, goats, cows, sheep and wild animals in Kishanje. There are many wild animals here. I don’t like wild animals, but I like dogs and cats. I eat rice, potatoes, greens, carrots, and beans. There is a school, KHHS. I eat posho beans at KHHS.
Ok, not the most brilliant essay ever written, but I tried!
Part D was writing numbers one through 18. “emwe, ibiri, ishatu, ina, itaano, mukaaga, mushanju, munaana, mwenda, ikumi….” And Part E was translation. I was given 20 Rukiga words to translate into English. I scored 15/20 there…
Paper Two is ready and waiting for me. I haven’t looked at it yet cause I want to revise some more before attempting it.
I love hearing the kids giggle when I say a funny word, at least I do on most days… and it is great proving the snotty ones wrong when they say I don’t know any Rukiga. My faithful teacher NJ is strict but fair, although since handing back paper one he has been talking to me only in Rukiga. And when I reply in English he sternly says “gamba Rukiga!” Ok, Speak Rukiga, I will…. Some day perhaps even fluently.
A Good Day
Today was a really good day. It is exam time at school here, and the kids take exams even on Saturday. I woke up this morning at 6:30 and helped with some chores around the house, ate breakfast, did laundry, “bathed” and then headed up to school.
On the stairs I met “P”, an S5 student who had just finished his morning exam. I really like P, he is hard working and a good kid. (I like his mom a lot too- we met her in the back of a cargo truck one night, she mom’ed it up for Bekah and I, super sweet lady. She introduced herself as “mama wa ‘p’”. ) Anyway, back to P- he was feeling a bit discouraged cause he had gotten the equivalent of a 98% on an exam, not a 100% and on his physics exam he told me he failed…. Only to him, 88% is failing. We had a good talk about motivation and his future aspirations.
I climbed up the stairs to the roof with two of my favorite boys and we played a couple games of master mind. We laughed a lot and I really enjoyed watching them reason out their moves, and watching them encourage one another. From there I headed to the Head Masters’ house to pick up something, and his fabulous wife fed me a yummy lunch. I know I have said it before, but I am so thankful for the head master here- he is so neat, and his wife is great, and his two kids are fun. His wife went with Bekah and I to the hospital when I was sick and totally momma bear-ed it up when I needed her to.
After lunch I met a group of students who informed me they were heading to Kashasha, a neighboring village, in the truck. As it is the end of the term many students are heading home. The school truck was taking the kids from Kashasha and neighboring areas home. So I hopped in with the kids. I am still pumped from the whole experience; I can’t even explain it properly. Riding along rural dirt roads in the back of a truck with a bunch of kids is a great opportunity to see them for who they really are. Away from the classroom environment you get to see such different things.
There was a festive spirit the entire time, with the kids singing, whistling, hollering, and joking around. We would stop along the way to drop off students and pick up various villagers who wanted a ride down the road. Before reaching Kashasha we stopped to drop off three students; the DOS came around to the back and told me that I should stay with them and the truck would pick me up on the way back. (he was concerned that the ride would get bumpy) I refused… nicely of course!! Dirt roads aren’t anything new to me, and I wasn’t going to miss this time with the kids for anything.
Again I have to apologize for my inability to paint an accurate picture of all the humorous things which occurred on this trip. I am going to do my best though!
Turning the corner, we literally scared the milk out of a cow. I didn’t know such a thing was possible. One of the boys hopped out of the back and chased the cow down the road for about half a mile cause the dumb thing was either so stupid, or so scared, that it would only run down the middle of the road.
The kids were super psyched to show me the impenetrable forest (google it!) we drove past it on the way to Kashasha. On my end, it was even neater that some of the kids were seeing it for the first time themselves.
The pygmies live in and around the impenetrable forest. The kids pointed out every pygmy we passed; some of the pygmies were more startled to see me than I was to see them. Few actually ran away…
We stopped in a village center to drop off two boys and for the first time the kids got to witness what I tell them about. Hordes of people gathered around the truck shouting, whispering, gasping “dreeba, mzungu” (look, mzungu). As usual most of the children were afraid of me. I remained in the truck so as not to cause any heart attacks… one of the boys was shocked that they were afraid of me. So he jumped out of the truck and said, “I will catch one for you, Aunt” hahahaha…. I had a hard time explaining to him that catching a terrified child and forcing them to greet me would not ease that child’s fear.
I taught the boys how to play “catch” with potatoes. It was surprisingly difficult to explain the game of catch, but eventually I got them to “kwata” the potato. I feel super cool cause my sad catching skills were good compared to these strong athletic boys. Hehe!
“You are good” said in awe when I told them that yes, I do know how to drive, and yes, if something happened to Edward, our driver, I could get us home. Most of them fear driving, although it is the goal and aspiration of quite a few to attend “driving school”.
Finally reaching Kashasha: the name of the village literally means “To Pain” – what a sad name! One of the kids told me it was named thus due to the painful history of famine in the region. We piled out of the truck and the DOS bought porridge for all of us. “Porridge” is a locally made drink, made from sorghum and honey and water. As usual, I was the center of attention (although at least in Kashasha they stared quietly). One of the all time highlights of the trip occurred outside of the porridge shop. A group of men were commenting about me, and one of my boys said, “Be careful, she speaks Rukiga”. [Now, let me interject with this: the kids are ever telling me that I don’t know any Rukiga, they are always teasing me (kindly!) and joking that I may never learn- so having one boy warn the locals, and having his warning echoed by a few other students is huge] The men of course doubted the kids, so one of the boys said, “go ahead, greet her” [again, this whole convo is occurring in Rukiga] The suddenly not so brave group of men kind of push forward a spokesperson, “Agandi, Nyabo” he says , “Nigye, Sebo. Origye?” I reply [the most basic and straightforward greeting in Rukiga there is].“Yamawe!” echoes around the center. “The Mzunug speaks Rukiga”.
“For me, I know…” one of the most annoying statements I hear on a daily basis. On this trip though it was good because the kids were really free with me. I was able to answer and challenge the things they “know” about the world, and life.
“Speak the truth and be shame the Devil!” yikes…. These challenges are hard for me! A village man hopped in the back with a beer. I was asked if I knew what it was (I did) and if I had ever tasted the Ugandan beer… I hesitated a moment too long (these kids are quick!) “Speak the truth Aunt, Be shame the devil!” gaaahhh! Drinking is not kosher in Ug if you are a Christian. Only pagans drink and smoke and go to clubs (no I am not kidding, pagans). Yes I have tasted UG beer. Sigh. You will be pleased to know that I be shamed the devil and spoke the truth.
Seeing the boys do “gentlemanly” things!!!!! BEST THING EVER!!! Bekah and I have been really fighting to challenge the mindset here of ‘men are on top, women are lessers’ and it has been challenging. One of the things we instituted was making the S1 boys carry the desks for the girls. Now, other boys are following suit. Anyway, back to the truck… typically I see women struggling to unload their luggage, bags of irishes, etc… BUT NOT THIS TRUCK RIDE! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I would have doubted it was possible, but I am telling you the absolute truth: some of my boys not only loaded the girls’ cases, they also lifted them out of the truck bed. No joke. Just like you see in the old western movies, a cowboy helping a lady out of the wagon bed. AND they loaded and unloaded the various sacks of irishes and maize for the old women who hitched a ride. The women were shocked. They gave the boys ears of maize as thanks. They boys were then shocked. Hehehe!! [ps: I did not tell the boys to do this, they did it of their own accord]
I love challenging the expectations of these kids. And they appreciate it. Something as simple as hopping in the back of a truck and riding down the road with them can make such a huge difference. Upon returning to school I was able to spend time with some of the S4 boys. These boys have rarely interacted with me but they sought me out. I am so glad I a building relationships with these kids- they have been lied to, abused, and neglected for so long, that it will take a strong relationship with them before they trust me with their hurts. And I love seeing my kids make good decisions and do the right thing, I love catching them in the act! If I hadn’t gone today I would have missed so much.
On the stairs I met “P”, an S5 student who had just finished his morning exam. I really like P, he is hard working and a good kid. (I like his mom a lot too- we met her in the back of a cargo truck one night, she mom’ed it up for Bekah and I, super sweet lady. She introduced herself as “mama wa ‘p’”. ) Anyway, back to P- he was feeling a bit discouraged cause he had gotten the equivalent of a 98% on an exam, not a 100% and on his physics exam he told me he failed…. Only to him, 88% is failing. We had a good talk about motivation and his future aspirations.
I climbed up the stairs to the roof with two of my favorite boys and we played a couple games of master mind. We laughed a lot and I really enjoyed watching them reason out their moves, and watching them encourage one another. From there I headed to the Head Masters’ house to pick up something, and his fabulous wife fed me a yummy lunch. I know I have said it before, but I am so thankful for the head master here- he is so neat, and his wife is great, and his two kids are fun. His wife went with Bekah and I to the hospital when I was sick and totally momma bear-ed it up when I needed her to.
After lunch I met a group of students who informed me they were heading to Kashasha, a neighboring village, in the truck. As it is the end of the term many students are heading home. The school truck was taking the kids from Kashasha and neighboring areas home. So I hopped in with the kids. I am still pumped from the whole experience; I can’t even explain it properly. Riding along rural dirt roads in the back of a truck with a bunch of kids is a great opportunity to see them for who they really are. Away from the classroom environment you get to see such different things.
There was a festive spirit the entire time, with the kids singing, whistling, hollering, and joking around. We would stop along the way to drop off students and pick up various villagers who wanted a ride down the road. Before reaching Kashasha we stopped to drop off three students; the DOS came around to the back and told me that I should stay with them and the truck would pick me up on the way back. (he was concerned that the ride would get bumpy) I refused… nicely of course!! Dirt roads aren’t anything new to me, and I wasn’t going to miss this time with the kids for anything.
Again I have to apologize for my inability to paint an accurate picture of all the humorous things which occurred on this trip. I am going to do my best though!
Turning the corner, we literally scared the milk out of a cow. I didn’t know such a thing was possible. One of the boys hopped out of the back and chased the cow down the road for about half a mile cause the dumb thing was either so stupid, or so scared, that it would only run down the middle of the road.
The kids were super psyched to show me the impenetrable forest (google it!) we drove past it on the way to Kashasha. On my end, it was even neater that some of the kids were seeing it for the first time themselves.
The pygmies live in and around the impenetrable forest. The kids pointed out every pygmy we passed; some of the pygmies were more startled to see me than I was to see them. Few actually ran away…
We stopped in a village center to drop off two boys and for the first time the kids got to witness what I tell them about. Hordes of people gathered around the truck shouting, whispering, gasping “dreeba, mzungu” (look, mzungu). As usual most of the children were afraid of me. I remained in the truck so as not to cause any heart attacks… one of the boys was shocked that they were afraid of me. So he jumped out of the truck and said, “I will catch one for you, Aunt” hahahaha…. I had a hard time explaining to him that catching a terrified child and forcing them to greet me would not ease that child’s fear.
I taught the boys how to play “catch” with potatoes. It was surprisingly difficult to explain the game of catch, but eventually I got them to “kwata” the potato. I feel super cool cause my sad catching skills were good compared to these strong athletic boys. Hehe!
“You are good” said in awe when I told them that yes, I do know how to drive, and yes, if something happened to Edward, our driver, I could get us home. Most of them fear driving, although it is the goal and aspiration of quite a few to attend “driving school”.
Finally reaching Kashasha: the name of the village literally means “To Pain” – what a sad name! One of the kids told me it was named thus due to the painful history of famine in the region. We piled out of the truck and the DOS bought porridge for all of us. “Porridge” is a locally made drink, made from sorghum and honey and water. As usual, I was the center of attention (although at least in Kashasha they stared quietly). One of the all time highlights of the trip occurred outside of the porridge shop. A group of men were commenting about me, and one of my boys said, “Be careful, she speaks Rukiga”. [Now, let me interject with this: the kids are ever telling me that I don’t know any Rukiga, they are always teasing me (kindly!) and joking that I may never learn- so having one boy warn the locals, and having his warning echoed by a few other students is huge] The men of course doubted the kids, so one of the boys said, “go ahead, greet her” [again, this whole convo is occurring in Rukiga] The suddenly not so brave group of men kind of push forward a spokesperson, “Agandi, Nyabo” he says , “Nigye, Sebo. Origye?” I reply [the most basic and straightforward greeting in Rukiga there is].“Yamawe!” echoes around the center. “The Mzunug speaks Rukiga”.
“For me, I know…” one of the most annoying statements I hear on a daily basis. On this trip though it was good because the kids were really free with me. I was able to answer and challenge the things they “know” about the world, and life.
“Speak the truth and be shame the Devil!” yikes…. These challenges are hard for me! A village man hopped in the back with a beer. I was asked if I knew what it was (I did) and if I had ever tasted the Ugandan beer… I hesitated a moment too long (these kids are quick!) “Speak the truth Aunt, Be shame the devil!” gaaahhh! Drinking is not kosher in Ug if you are a Christian. Only pagans drink and smoke and go to clubs (no I am not kidding, pagans). Yes I have tasted UG beer. Sigh. You will be pleased to know that I be shamed the devil and spoke the truth.
Seeing the boys do “gentlemanly” things!!!!! BEST THING EVER!!! Bekah and I have been really fighting to challenge the mindset here of ‘men are on top, women are lessers’ and it has been challenging. One of the things we instituted was making the S1 boys carry the desks for the girls. Now, other boys are following suit. Anyway, back to the truck… typically I see women struggling to unload their luggage, bags of irishes, etc… BUT NOT THIS TRUCK RIDE! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I would have doubted it was possible, but I am telling you the absolute truth: some of my boys not only loaded the girls’ cases, they also lifted them out of the truck bed. No joke. Just like you see in the old western movies, a cowboy helping a lady out of the wagon bed. AND they loaded and unloaded the various sacks of irishes and maize for the old women who hitched a ride. The women were shocked. They gave the boys ears of maize as thanks. They boys were then shocked. Hehehe!! [ps: I did not tell the boys to do this, they did it of their own accord]
I love challenging the expectations of these kids. And they appreciate it. Something as simple as hopping in the back of a truck and riding down the road with them can make such a huge difference. Upon returning to school I was able to spend time with some of the S4 boys. These boys have rarely interacted with me but they sought me out. I am so glad I a building relationships with these kids- they have been lied to, abused, and neglected for so long, that it will take a strong relationship with them before they trust me with their hurts. And I love seeing my kids make good decisions and do the right thing, I love catching them in the act! If I hadn’t gone today I would have missed so much.
Moments that Make my heart go Pitter Patter
Interesting factoid about typhoid- it does a funny number to your heart; your body temperature spikes, and your pulse plummets. Unusual for fevers, or so I am told. Having experienced a low pulse for the past few days has been exhausting. (I am blaming the exhaustion on the low pulse and absolutely nothing else)
Monday evening we reached home thanks to the careful driving of Mawanda, one of the local truck drivers. He even delivered us right to our front door, thanks to specific instructions from one of the uncles. It was hard walking through the doors back into the house; I think mostly because I was so tired from the journey, but also in part because of the flooding of emotions from the previous few days.
Thankfully our friend Laban arrived moments after we did, having him around always helps. So, Bekah, Matt (her friend from CO who is visiting for a few days), Laban, and I unloaded our gear from the truck and began settling in the house. We had left things in disarray thanks to the mad dash to the hospital and the critters had a field day. I felt like we had to reclaim our territory once again. Anyway, trying to show how “good” I was doing, I began gathering dirty clothes up and unpacking while Bek and Matt and Laban were organizing things downstairs. Ever get a feeling that something is wrong? Well, I get those feelings, especially in relation to spiders. The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling, but I chalked it off to nervousness about being home again after being so sick. Then I saw it. Or rather, then I reacted to it. Reaching out to grab a shirt off my duffle bag I almost grabbed a massive ugly icky spider. Now I come from AZ, land of the unusually large spiders and creepy crawly things, so I am a good judge of huge spiders. The leg span easily would have covered my hand. So I did what any other girl who fears spiders would do. I called for Bekah. Quietly at first, cause the room was spinning, but then with more gusto. Bek comes running up the stairs followed by the boys. I hollered that I wasn’t sick, but needed help; and then realized that I was putting her life in peril too, so told her to stop coming. By then I was crying. Great.
Thank God for boys. Matt took control and helped my helpless self snap out of the panic. He directed me away from the spider, told Bek to take me outside, and then dealt with the evil critter. Laban disposed of the body while Matt did a quick check for more spiders. Getting my head back on straight, I joined Matt, holding the lantern and flashlight while he checked all the rooms/ piles of clothes. Laban told Bek that she had to sleep in my room with me and should not let me go cleaning without her around. (He is too sweet). Still feeling unsettled Matt and I continued the sweep; only killed two other spiders which were small in comparison. (Like how I said “only”?)
Can I even capture the flood of thoughts that washed over me while Bekah was hugging me on the porch? How ridiculous am I? How pathetic can I be? First of all, who moves to a third world country for a year, lives in a village which is reminiscent of the pioneer days, and thinks it is totally normal? Seriously, I caught TYPHOID. Typhoid. Does that even exist in America? And I am a hand washing FREAK. I boil everything. No reason on EARTH that I should have been the one. So, not only do I get ridiculously sick (which I was sick for two weeks without really doing anything, cause… who knows), I then get ridiculously frightened by a spider. I live in a dirt house with wood floors. Spider HEAVEN.
Can you start to hear how discouraged and tired and fed up I was? Standing on the “porch” with Bekah as she was once again being forced to be “the strong one”, I was ready to call it a day and go home. But then, a still small voice calmed my heart.
Life is never easy. Some days are harder than others. Some years are harder than others. I wasn’t promised rainbows, unicorns, and fields of flowers when I came to UG. I was promised strength for each new day, guidance, and the peace of knowing I am where I was called to be.
Many things make my heart go “pitter patter”; some of the moments are caused by fear- a sudden adrenaline rush that sends my heart racing. But the majority of things that make my heart go “pitter patter” are the quiet moments when I see my kids doing the right thing without being told, when I see change in the lives of those I meet daily, when I am reminded that God loves me and has a plan.
Pitter Patter: my favorite boys coming down the hill minutes after the spider attack to “see” me with their own eyes, giving me great big “almost young men” hugs and squeezing my hand, saying “welcome home” and “thank you for getting better”. Being with me when I felt lowest.
Pitter Patter: seeing two of my boys pray together in the kitchen before beginning to learn how to play the keyboard- no adults in sight telling them what to do.
Pitter Patter: darling Ariyo, sweet village girl who doesn’t go to school, rounding up all the other non – schooled kids who graze goats and cows and introducing them to “Aunt Le”- And chasing the ones who shout “mzungu” so she can teach them my name.
Pitter Patter: going to the primary school and peaking in the nursery class where 18 small voices shout out “you are welcome Auntie Le” and 18 faces smile at me before rushing to hug me.
Pitter Patter: one of my kids telling a teacher that I was really his aunt. “Are you sure?” the skeptical adult asked. “More than” he replied. “Don’t you know, teacher, we are all one people, just different skin”
Monday evening we reached home thanks to the careful driving of Mawanda, one of the local truck drivers. He even delivered us right to our front door, thanks to specific instructions from one of the uncles. It was hard walking through the doors back into the house; I think mostly because I was so tired from the journey, but also in part because of the flooding of emotions from the previous few days.
Thankfully our friend Laban arrived moments after we did, having him around always helps. So, Bekah, Matt (her friend from CO who is visiting for a few days), Laban, and I unloaded our gear from the truck and began settling in the house. We had left things in disarray thanks to the mad dash to the hospital and the critters had a field day. I felt like we had to reclaim our territory once again. Anyway, trying to show how “good” I was doing, I began gathering dirty clothes up and unpacking while Bek and Matt and Laban were organizing things downstairs. Ever get a feeling that something is wrong? Well, I get those feelings, especially in relation to spiders. The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling, but I chalked it off to nervousness about being home again after being so sick. Then I saw it. Or rather, then I reacted to it. Reaching out to grab a shirt off my duffle bag I almost grabbed a massive ugly icky spider. Now I come from AZ, land of the unusually large spiders and creepy crawly things, so I am a good judge of huge spiders. The leg span easily would have covered my hand. So I did what any other girl who fears spiders would do. I called for Bekah. Quietly at first, cause the room was spinning, but then with more gusto. Bek comes running up the stairs followed by the boys. I hollered that I wasn’t sick, but needed help; and then realized that I was putting her life in peril too, so told her to stop coming. By then I was crying. Great.
Thank God for boys. Matt took control and helped my helpless self snap out of the panic. He directed me away from the spider, told Bek to take me outside, and then dealt with the evil critter. Laban disposed of the body while Matt did a quick check for more spiders. Getting my head back on straight, I joined Matt, holding the lantern and flashlight while he checked all the rooms/ piles of clothes. Laban told Bek that she had to sleep in my room with me and should not let me go cleaning without her around. (He is too sweet). Still feeling unsettled Matt and I continued the sweep; only killed two other spiders which were small in comparison. (Like how I said “only”?)
Can I even capture the flood of thoughts that washed over me while Bekah was hugging me on the porch? How ridiculous am I? How pathetic can I be? First of all, who moves to a third world country for a year, lives in a village which is reminiscent of the pioneer days, and thinks it is totally normal? Seriously, I caught TYPHOID. Typhoid. Does that even exist in America? And I am a hand washing FREAK. I boil everything. No reason on EARTH that I should have been the one. So, not only do I get ridiculously sick (which I was sick for two weeks without really doing anything, cause… who knows), I then get ridiculously frightened by a spider. I live in a dirt house with wood floors. Spider HEAVEN.
Can you start to hear how discouraged and tired and fed up I was? Standing on the “porch” with Bekah as she was once again being forced to be “the strong one”, I was ready to call it a day and go home. But then, a still small voice calmed my heart.
Life is never easy. Some days are harder than others. Some years are harder than others. I wasn’t promised rainbows, unicorns, and fields of flowers when I came to UG. I was promised strength for each new day, guidance, and the peace of knowing I am where I was called to be.
Many things make my heart go “pitter patter”; some of the moments are caused by fear- a sudden adrenaline rush that sends my heart racing. But the majority of things that make my heart go “pitter patter” are the quiet moments when I see my kids doing the right thing without being told, when I see change in the lives of those I meet daily, when I am reminded that God loves me and has a plan.
Pitter Patter: my favorite boys coming down the hill minutes after the spider attack to “see” me with their own eyes, giving me great big “almost young men” hugs and squeezing my hand, saying “welcome home” and “thank you for getting better”. Being with me when I felt lowest.
Pitter Patter: seeing two of my boys pray together in the kitchen before beginning to learn how to play the keyboard- no adults in sight telling them what to do.
Pitter Patter: darling Ariyo, sweet village girl who doesn’t go to school, rounding up all the other non – schooled kids who graze goats and cows and introducing them to “Aunt Le”- And chasing the ones who shout “mzungu” so she can teach them my name.
Pitter Patter: going to the primary school and peaking in the nursery class where 18 small voices shout out “you are welcome Auntie Le” and 18 faces smile at me before rushing to hug me.
Pitter Patter: one of my kids telling a teacher that I was really his aunt. “Are you sure?” the skeptical adult asked. “More than” he replied. “Don’t you know, teacher, we are all one people, just different skin”
Monday, April 5, 2010
Away we go
Just a quick update before we hit the road.
I am doing better. Fighting a head cold (cause the other stuff just wasn't enough to deal with apparently!) but doing better. Went to the pharmacy to get more of the meds per the Doc's instruction, went to the market to get some passion fruits to make juice with, and went to the bakery for a loaf of bread.
All that remains is to wait for Mwanda to come pick us up and give us a ride home. One of the Uncles called him and told him to meet us at our hostel. VIP treatment!
Thanks for all the prayers, please continue to pray. Have a lot to do when we reach home- kind of left it in shambles :)
Also, this next weekend we are expecting another girl to join us. Dont know anything about her other than she just graduated HS, and has never been to UG before. Pray for us and pray for her!! Hopefully three girls will be a good thing...
And Finally, Happy Easter!
I am doing better. Fighting a head cold (cause the other stuff just wasn't enough to deal with apparently!) but doing better. Went to the pharmacy to get more of the meds per the Doc's instruction, went to the market to get some passion fruits to make juice with, and went to the bakery for a loaf of bread.
All that remains is to wait for Mwanda to come pick us up and give us a ride home. One of the Uncles called him and told him to meet us at our hostel. VIP treatment!
Thanks for all the prayers, please continue to pray. Have a lot to do when we reach home- kind of left it in shambles :)
Also, this next weekend we are expecting another girl to join us. Dont know anything about her other than she just graduated HS, and has never been to UG before. Pray for us and pray for her!! Hopefully three girls will be a good thing...
And Finally, Happy Easter!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Honesty
It is hard to be honest. Hard to be honest with myself, hard to be honest with Bekah, hard to be honest with everyone else here... I can lie to myself easily, I can say I am "ok" without batting an eye, but somehow, when mom calls.... it becomes impossible.
Poor mom and dad, the past two times they have called i have cried my eyes out. Gotta stop that habit. In all honesty, I am not "ok". I was really sick. I feel yucky. Why is it so hard to admit that?
For the past week I have been feeling bad. Funny fevers, aches, head pains, rash on my chest, you get the picture. Did I tell anyone? NO. Why not? Pride? Fear? Stupidity?
Wednesday morning I couldn't lie to Bekah anymore- I told her I was sick. Too sick to do laundry, too sick to wash dishes, too sick to go to school. (And you know i am sick when i don't want to clean things!)
I am thankful that despite my failure to communicate, God still took care of me.
It has been hard for me (silly selfish confession-) being the center of attention. I pretty much want people here to go away and leave me alone. I have been reminded time and again that in this culture, when someone is sick, everyone comes to sit in their room and look at them. (No, not kidding, "look at them") I don't like being "looked at". The comments drive me nuts too... half conscious Wednesday evening, one on-looker informed the group that i was just experiencing general body weakness because i was weak and not used to the climate.
So here is my advice- don't get Typhoid Fever and Malaria at the same time. It really messes you up. Your body will hurt in ways you didn't think was possible, your head will do funny things, and it will kick your butt for quite a few days.
Thanks to Mom and Dad's advice, Bek and I are staying in town for a few more days. We get kind of concerned about spending money (cause living in town is way more expensive than living in the village), but the parentals quickly highlighted that silly idea and voted it down.
Life is precious. It is worth a few more days in town. I need to suck it up and stop being such a pansy about that...
Thank you all for your prayers. I am on the mend, honestly, I am. Still fighting fevers that spike and drop (thank you typhoid) and the cyclical bursts of invading parasites (thank you evil mosquito) but I am alive. I am getting stronger, and I am not giving up.
Poor mom and dad, the past two times they have called i have cried my eyes out. Gotta stop that habit. In all honesty, I am not "ok". I was really sick. I feel yucky. Why is it so hard to admit that?
For the past week I have been feeling bad. Funny fevers, aches, head pains, rash on my chest, you get the picture. Did I tell anyone? NO. Why not? Pride? Fear? Stupidity?
Wednesday morning I couldn't lie to Bekah anymore- I told her I was sick. Too sick to do laundry, too sick to wash dishes, too sick to go to school. (And you know i am sick when i don't want to clean things!)
I am thankful that despite my failure to communicate, God still took care of me.
It has been hard for me (silly selfish confession-) being the center of attention. I pretty much want people here to go away and leave me alone. I have been reminded time and again that in this culture, when someone is sick, everyone comes to sit in their room and look at them. (No, not kidding, "look at them") I don't like being "looked at". The comments drive me nuts too... half conscious Wednesday evening, one on-looker informed the group that i was just experiencing general body weakness because i was weak and not used to the climate.
So here is my advice- don't get Typhoid Fever and Malaria at the same time. It really messes you up. Your body will hurt in ways you didn't think was possible, your head will do funny things, and it will kick your butt for quite a few days.
Thanks to Mom and Dad's advice, Bek and I are staying in town for a few more days. We get kind of concerned about spending money (cause living in town is way more expensive than living in the village), but the parentals quickly highlighted that silly idea and voted it down.
Life is precious. It is worth a few more days in town. I need to suck it up and stop being such a pansy about that...
Thank you all for your prayers. I am on the mend, honestly, I am. Still fighting fevers that spike and drop (thank you typhoid) and the cyclical bursts of invading parasites (thank you evil mosquito) but I am alive. I am getting stronger, and I am not giving up.
Friday, April 2, 2010
snaps
Caleb working on his letters
the stairs leading up the mountain to school
more stairs
stairs leading up to school
How things work
I apologize for the massive “dumping” of blogs in one swoop. See, what happens is….
I write down blog thoughts by candlelight before going to bed and then when there is power (which only happens when visiting mission teams come) I hurriedly type them all. Therefore, please forgive the random typos, the disjointed thoughts, etc. I then save all the blogs on my memory stick for the occasional trek to town. There I upload them all at once on the blog!
I realize that I may not always explain in full the ins and outs of life, the school system, and all that jazz, so let me try to fix some of that now.
School here is technically mandatory, but must be paid for, so if there is no money, you don’t go to school. An average worker earns 2000 shillings a day, 2500 if you don’t feed them lunch. (this is the average here in the village). School fees are around 170,000 per child, per term, three terms per year. Students must provide a ream of paper of the school, buy school uniforms, and provide all pens, notebooks, etc.
Kids start school at nursery, baby class, top class, and then primary school. Primary (“P”) lasts from P1-P7. At P7 they take a national exam to pass to secondary school. The grading system is weird here too; 1 is the best, so if they are tested in four subjects, a score of four is like superstar stellar student. Secondary school is divided into two: “O” level and “A” level. O level, ordinary level, is S1-S4. Advanced level is S5 and S6. At S4 they take another national exam to determine whether or not they continue their studies.
Growing up in AZ I experienced lots of daylight hours for getting things done in. Electricity was also awesome for working at night. Here we have only 12 hours of daylight, and two of those hours don’t really count cause it is dusky. Kinda puts a damper on productivity. Everything is harder too. Last time Bekah and I did wash, we literally rubbed our skin off. The palm of my right hand kept getting blood on the clothes. Bekah’s knuckles were a mess. Next time we go to town we want to look for some “corrugated metal” and try to rig up a washboard. We hired a local woman to help us finish the wash since we were sort of derailed by the bloody knuckles / palms. We haven’t done wash since cause it is exhausting and we are ever tired. It is convenient that it has been raining, gives us an excuse not to wash. On the downside, we have been wearing the same skirts for three days now. Tomorrow we will wash.
Are there other things I haven’t explained too well? Let me know, I will try to clear it up if there are.
I write down blog thoughts by candlelight before going to bed and then when there is power (which only happens when visiting mission teams come) I hurriedly type them all. Therefore, please forgive the random typos, the disjointed thoughts, etc. I then save all the blogs on my memory stick for the occasional trek to town. There I upload them all at once on the blog!
I realize that I may not always explain in full the ins and outs of life, the school system, and all that jazz, so let me try to fix some of that now.
School here is technically mandatory, but must be paid for, so if there is no money, you don’t go to school. An average worker earns 2000 shillings a day, 2500 if you don’t feed them lunch. (this is the average here in the village). School fees are around 170,000 per child, per term, three terms per year. Students must provide a ream of paper of the school, buy school uniforms, and provide all pens, notebooks, etc.
Kids start school at nursery, baby class, top class, and then primary school. Primary (“P”) lasts from P1-P7. At P7 they take a national exam to pass to secondary school. The grading system is weird here too; 1 is the best, so if they are tested in four subjects, a score of four is like superstar stellar student. Secondary school is divided into two: “O” level and “A” level. O level, ordinary level, is S1-S4. Advanced level is S5 and S6. At S4 they take another national exam to determine whether or not they continue their studies.
Growing up in AZ I experienced lots of daylight hours for getting things done in. Electricity was also awesome for working at night. Here we have only 12 hours of daylight, and two of those hours don’t really count cause it is dusky. Kinda puts a damper on productivity. Everything is harder too. Last time Bekah and I did wash, we literally rubbed our skin off. The palm of my right hand kept getting blood on the clothes. Bekah’s knuckles were a mess. Next time we go to town we want to look for some “corrugated metal” and try to rig up a washboard. We hired a local woman to help us finish the wash since we were sort of derailed by the bloody knuckles / palms. We haven’t done wash since cause it is exhausting and we are ever tired. It is convenient that it has been raining, gives us an excuse not to wash. On the downside, we have been wearing the same skirts for three days now. Tomorrow we will wash.
Are there other things I haven’t explained too well? Let me know, I will try to clear it up if there are.
Attitude Check
I have a bad attitude. Lately it has been really bad. Today it was terrible. I find myself frustrated by my own body stench. I realize that perhaps I am the only one who realizes the severity of my stench (as others may be distracted by their own non pleasant smells) but let’s be honest; I stink. I wonder if bad attitude leaks out through my pores.
First of all, I should be really thrilled right now; we have a visiting mission team, and therefore we have electricity. Electricity is nice. We are charging everything we can at the moment and I am using my computer to type up all the ‘blog thoughts’ I have been journaling. This team happens to be especially nifty cause the team leader brought me a bag of clothes from mom. {thanks momma!} I was thrilled by this cool hat and scarf mom sent me until I had to remove them to be presentable to the other visitors tonight. (the mission team was cool with my fashion sense, some other Ugandan visitors for a conference are here too). Forced removal of my hat/ scarf caused the yucky rebellious, sarcastic, mean part of me to rear its stinky head.
Ok, back to the stench; it is both literal and figurative. On the literal side; I stink. Today was a long hot day. It started with no bath this morning. [and by bath I mean no rain water collected in my basin and splashed over whichever body part takes precedence for the day] It continued with a grand total of 5 trips to and from school. Today was a Caleb day (the special needs kid I told you about) and those days are always hard. Shout out to special ed teachers. You are a special breed of human. God did not give me the gifts I need to be as kind and as effective as teachers / parents with such children. Caleb is stinky- really really stinky. Today he was gag-worthy stinky. I understand why, he is incapable of bathing on his own, but the wherefore of how to spend all day with him without gagging is still eluding me. Additionally, he is really testing me lately. Rationale and reasoning skills of like a six year old, crazy hormonal dumps of his chronological 18 years, and a new cockiness that comes from familiarity with the new program = constant testing. Today I had to put him on time out three times- he hit a teacher, punched a girl, and slapped me. Time out seems to be the most effective discipline for him since he longs to be in the center of all the action. But still- UBER frustrating. And did I mention that on his particularly stinky days he seems to want to lay on me, hug me, and rest on my shoulder?
There is a conference going on here at the school. The kids had a half day of classes and then were expected to help prepare for the evening’s program. Kids will be kids, but some days, their childishness is a bit much. Today it was a bit much for this stinky girl. Girls are struggling to carry heavy desks while boys watch and mock them from the sidelines. I send three students in search of rags to wipe down desks, they all three pull a Houdini on me. I wash the desks alone after finding three rags in less than five minutes. I am wiped out and tired of making decisions for the conference and ask four big S4 and S5 boys to walk home with me and help carry chairs back. They refuse on the grounds that they have already helped and are now tired. So I walk down alone, carry five plastic chairs on my head up the hill, and then they swoop in to save the day. I was so not impressed. In fact, I almost refused them- but better sense won and I let the now seven boys share the load of the five plastic chairs.
On the non literal/physical sense; I stink. My attitude has been sucky lately. There really is no excuse. I am supposed to be a loving, godly, adult, auntie to these snotty kids… umm… I mean, these beautiful children. I find the loving, godly, adult part particularly hard to pull off while carrying chairs up a hill.
One of the kids accused me of lying today, so I told him to jump off the mountain. Real good example huh?
Please keep me in your prayers.
First of all, I should be really thrilled right now; we have a visiting mission team, and therefore we have electricity. Electricity is nice. We are charging everything we can at the moment and I am using my computer to type up all the ‘blog thoughts’ I have been journaling. This team happens to be especially nifty cause the team leader brought me a bag of clothes from mom. {thanks momma!} I was thrilled by this cool hat and scarf mom sent me until I had to remove them to be presentable to the other visitors tonight. (the mission team was cool with my fashion sense, some other Ugandan visitors for a conference are here too). Forced removal of my hat/ scarf caused the yucky rebellious, sarcastic, mean part of me to rear its stinky head.
Ok, back to the stench; it is both literal and figurative. On the literal side; I stink. Today was a long hot day. It started with no bath this morning. [and by bath I mean no rain water collected in my basin and splashed over whichever body part takes precedence for the day] It continued with a grand total of 5 trips to and from school. Today was a Caleb day (the special needs kid I told you about) and those days are always hard. Shout out to special ed teachers. You are a special breed of human. God did not give me the gifts I need to be as kind and as effective as teachers / parents with such children. Caleb is stinky- really really stinky. Today he was gag-worthy stinky. I understand why, he is incapable of bathing on his own, but the wherefore of how to spend all day with him without gagging is still eluding me. Additionally, he is really testing me lately. Rationale and reasoning skills of like a six year old, crazy hormonal dumps of his chronological 18 years, and a new cockiness that comes from familiarity with the new program = constant testing. Today I had to put him on time out three times- he hit a teacher, punched a girl, and slapped me. Time out seems to be the most effective discipline for him since he longs to be in the center of all the action. But still- UBER frustrating. And did I mention that on his particularly stinky days he seems to want to lay on me, hug me, and rest on my shoulder?
There is a conference going on here at the school. The kids had a half day of classes and then were expected to help prepare for the evening’s program. Kids will be kids, but some days, their childishness is a bit much. Today it was a bit much for this stinky girl. Girls are struggling to carry heavy desks while boys watch and mock them from the sidelines. I send three students in search of rags to wipe down desks, they all three pull a Houdini on me. I wash the desks alone after finding three rags in less than five minutes. I am wiped out and tired of making decisions for the conference and ask four big S4 and S5 boys to walk home with me and help carry chairs back. They refuse on the grounds that they have already helped and are now tired. So I walk down alone, carry five plastic chairs on my head up the hill, and then they swoop in to save the day. I was so not impressed. In fact, I almost refused them- but better sense won and I let the now seven boys share the load of the five plastic chairs.
On the non literal/physical sense; I stink. My attitude has been sucky lately. There really is no excuse. I am supposed to be a loving, godly, adult, auntie to these snotty kids… umm… I mean, these beautiful children. I find the loving, godly, adult part particularly hard to pull off while carrying chairs up a hill.
One of the kids accused me of lying today, so I told him to jump off the mountain. Real good example huh?
Please keep me in your prayers.
Brutus, Scout, and Private Mouse
I think I may have told you about the nightly visitors we have- rats, spiders, and birds. Well, the saga continues. Bekah believes she has seen a huge lizard. For a few weeks now I have heard a large something freely roaming about at night. Our walls are unfinished- they don’t reach the ceiling- so there is a “pathway” of sorts for critters to use. Something has been dropping rocks / leaves down on me as I sleep. Bekah fears rats. I hate spiders. Lizards seem slightly friendlier.
So I named our lizard “Brutus”. He is actually the head honcho of all wandering critters. Those who refuse to follow his command he eats, thus attaining his massive size, strength, and fearsome reputation. He is a direct descendent of the roman lizards, therefore he uses his walls/roads with ease. [my brother would know the real name of those roman wall roads….]
Brutus has commanded the birds to act as scouts. They fly in and out through various secret passages and survey the territory. As there are many birds with only one job, we address them all as “Scout”. At any given time throughout the day (and night) you can hear Bekah and I saying “Scout, Get OUT!” (it rhymes, we are too cool.)
Early this morning I was woken by a small rock being dropped on my face. Now accustomed to the blitzkriegs I merely said, “Scout, Get OUT” and remained snuggled in my blankets. Then I felt something different. Something was definitely crawling across my bed. With ninja like speed I flipped all bed sheets / blanket off the bed, shook out my pillow, and waited. Satisfied that I had fought off the sneak attack successfully, I remade my bed and went back to sleep.
A few hours later I got up to begin my day. Bekah woke shortly after and greeted me with “I caught Brutus last night”. More accurately, he caught himself. Exploring her duffle bag it seems he got caught. It took a minute for that to sink in- the great Brutus trapped in an unzipped duffle bag?! We headed into her room and I zipped the bag closed. Brutus was quiet. Only a slight shift from the great Brutus as I lifted the bag and carried it outside.
We took the bag to a field near our house and I began to unzip it slowly. Still silence. A stick served as the “opener” for the unzipped flap. As soon as daylight flooded the duffle, out darted Pvt. Mouse!
Brutus truly is a wise and cunning leader. He sent a mere private to lay this morning’s diversion. As Bekah and I marched to the field, Brutus and Scout must have been observing. They now know duffle bags are unsafe and have determined what our strategy is for dealing with invaders. Furthermore, we left the territory unguarded!
We may have lost this battle, but I have hopes we will win the war. Brutus is unaware of the plans I have set in motion already. We are calling in reinforcements. Soon the secret passageways should all be blocked, preventing Scout from surveying our territory. Hard to run an offensive with no ground info!!
So I named our lizard “Brutus”. He is actually the head honcho of all wandering critters. Those who refuse to follow his command he eats, thus attaining his massive size, strength, and fearsome reputation. He is a direct descendent of the roman lizards, therefore he uses his walls/roads with ease. [my brother would know the real name of those roman wall roads….]
Brutus has commanded the birds to act as scouts. They fly in and out through various secret passages and survey the territory. As there are many birds with only one job, we address them all as “Scout”. At any given time throughout the day (and night) you can hear Bekah and I saying “Scout, Get OUT!” (it rhymes, we are too cool.)
Early this morning I was woken by a small rock being dropped on my face. Now accustomed to the blitzkriegs I merely said, “Scout, Get OUT” and remained snuggled in my blankets. Then I felt something different. Something was definitely crawling across my bed. With ninja like speed I flipped all bed sheets / blanket off the bed, shook out my pillow, and waited. Satisfied that I had fought off the sneak attack successfully, I remade my bed and went back to sleep.
A few hours later I got up to begin my day. Bekah woke shortly after and greeted me with “I caught Brutus last night”. More accurately, he caught himself. Exploring her duffle bag it seems he got caught. It took a minute for that to sink in- the great Brutus trapped in an unzipped duffle bag?! We headed into her room and I zipped the bag closed. Brutus was quiet. Only a slight shift from the great Brutus as I lifted the bag and carried it outside.
We took the bag to a field near our house and I began to unzip it slowly. Still silence. A stick served as the “opener” for the unzipped flap. As soon as daylight flooded the duffle, out darted Pvt. Mouse!
Brutus truly is a wise and cunning leader. He sent a mere private to lay this morning’s diversion. As Bekah and I marched to the field, Brutus and Scout must have been observing. They now know duffle bags are unsafe and have determined what our strategy is for dealing with invaders. Furthermore, we left the territory unguarded!
We may have lost this battle, but I have hopes we will win the war. Brutus is unaware of the plans I have set in motion already. We are calling in reinforcements. Soon the secret passageways should all be blocked, preventing Scout from surveying our territory. Hard to run an offensive with no ground info!!
R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
It has been a really rough week. I hardly know where to start or even how to explain all the things that keep adding up. My sweet S1 boys are being hazed; took me two days to figure it out. No one is talking about it. I want to cry, fight, hurt the attackers, “momma bear” it up, but I can’t. A phone got stolen from the staff room. Apparently I was expected to ‘babysit’ the phone since I was in the room when the teacher left it, but I didn’t know. The hardest thing is I think I was set up. Needed to be ‘taught a lesson’; the day before I argued on behalf of our kids, that they aren’t thieves.
Bekah and I are living in a culture that does not respect women. Imagine trying to teach students who automatically have a bias against you because you are 1) a woman 2) an outsider 3) white. Some of these boys are as old as we are. Developmentally they are much younger, but still, it is hard. They don’t respect us.
One night Bekah and I heard a woman screaming. It was haunting, floating over the valley, carried by the wind. We told ourselves it was a good thing- a new life was coming into the world. The next day, Bekah asked the girls about a baby being born. There was silence. Then one girl spoke, “Teacher, women are used to the struggle of childbirth. We don’t scream when producing a child. The woman was being beaten.”
It is accepted. Women are beaten. Last week was a public holiday- “women’s day”. The girls were told to provide entertainment in celebration of “their day”. [Let’s take a moment to think about that- why were the boys entertained with a show on ‘women’s day’? I am of the opinion that the boys should have set the program] Then came the time for speeches. Speech one (from a local guest): women are taking over. If we men don’t control this, soon women will have power and we will be lesser. Speech two: God created woman from man’s rib, she is bone, he is the first creation. If it weren’t for him giving a rib, women wouldn’t be here today; women, remember where you came from. Speech three: thank you ladies for preparing for today, men let us appreciate their try. Ladies it is a good thing you are being educated, but be careful not to become too proud. Men have tempers, and if you disturb them they may beat you, so please, be careful.
Go ahead. Take a minute to let those speeches sink in. S1- take back what we as men have lost. S2- women are lesser, remember that. S3- if you are abused, it is your fault for provoking a man.
Where do I even start? How can abuse be addressed when there is no respect for women (and children). Who do I attempt to reach? The young boys? The teachers? Essentially, I am merely a woman telling them that abusing women is wrong. Why should they listen to me? What do I know?
Icing on the cake: the male teachers have informed me that unless I “beat” the students, they will never respect me. Consequently, they can’t really expect the students, especially the older boys, to show me respect. Nice.
Let’s use fear, abuse, and threats to control people. Sounds like a jolly good time. Let’s discourage critical thinking, accountability, and initiative by allowing only route memorization, and by micromanaging these adolescents. Yep, that should work….
Stop.
As frustrated as I become, as bruised as my sense of justice becomes, as tired as I feel from constantly “fighting” for my kids, I can’t let myself become too angry. The teachers/adults here were once very much like my kids. They were once scared children being neglected at home, abused, finding themselves on the receiving end of the canes at school. They grew up in this culture. It is all they know.
Talk about a pendulum swing. Anger/loathing to sorrow/understanding. I need to find a healthy balance if I ever expect to sleep at night.
Bekah and I are living in a culture that does not respect women. Imagine trying to teach students who automatically have a bias against you because you are 1) a woman 2) an outsider 3) white. Some of these boys are as old as we are. Developmentally they are much younger, but still, it is hard. They don’t respect us.
One night Bekah and I heard a woman screaming. It was haunting, floating over the valley, carried by the wind. We told ourselves it was a good thing- a new life was coming into the world. The next day, Bekah asked the girls about a baby being born. There was silence. Then one girl spoke, “Teacher, women are used to the struggle of childbirth. We don’t scream when producing a child. The woman was being beaten.”
It is accepted. Women are beaten. Last week was a public holiday- “women’s day”. The girls were told to provide entertainment in celebration of “their day”. [Let’s take a moment to think about that- why were the boys entertained with a show on ‘women’s day’? I am of the opinion that the boys should have set the program] Then came the time for speeches. Speech one (from a local guest): women are taking over. If we men don’t control this, soon women will have power and we will be lesser. Speech two: God created woman from man’s rib, she is bone, he is the first creation. If it weren’t for him giving a rib, women wouldn’t be here today; women, remember where you came from. Speech three: thank you ladies for preparing for today, men let us appreciate their try. Ladies it is a good thing you are being educated, but be careful not to become too proud. Men have tempers, and if you disturb them they may beat you, so please, be careful.
Go ahead. Take a minute to let those speeches sink in. S1- take back what we as men have lost. S2- women are lesser, remember that. S3- if you are abused, it is your fault for provoking a man.
Where do I even start? How can abuse be addressed when there is no respect for women (and children). Who do I attempt to reach? The young boys? The teachers? Essentially, I am merely a woman telling them that abusing women is wrong. Why should they listen to me? What do I know?
Icing on the cake: the male teachers have informed me that unless I “beat” the students, they will never respect me. Consequently, they can’t really expect the students, especially the older boys, to show me respect. Nice.
Let’s use fear, abuse, and threats to control people. Sounds like a jolly good time. Let’s discourage critical thinking, accountability, and initiative by allowing only route memorization, and by micromanaging these adolescents. Yep, that should work….
Stop.
As frustrated as I become, as bruised as my sense of justice becomes, as tired as I feel from constantly “fighting” for my kids, I can’t let myself become too angry. The teachers/adults here were once very much like my kids. They were once scared children being neglected at home, abused, finding themselves on the receiving end of the canes at school. They grew up in this culture. It is all they know.
Talk about a pendulum swing. Anger/loathing to sorrow/understanding. I need to find a healthy balance if I ever expect to sleep at night.
Evil Spirits
It started Thursday during fellowship. KL got up mid service and left the gathering. Immediately MO followed; she soon returned and quietly called head boy for his help. Moments later TD, BJ, and AA also left. Fellowship continued, unhindered by the absence of these six students. As I gathered my things and prepared to leave I found MO waiting for me; she was clearly upset.
KL had remained in the dorm all day, not going to classes because she was sick. MO was concerned with her behavior and was watching her closely. When KL left fellowship, MO followed. [Our school is built on a mountain side with random 20-30 ft drops- dangerous for klutzy girls like me and Bekah, easily manageable for these strong mountain people.] MO told me that KL was affected by evil spirits and asked me to come; MO had to fight to keep KL from throwing herself off the hillside when she left fellowship. After stopping KL, MO took her to the vocational classroom, left her with two teachers and called head boy for his advice. Head boy notified TD, BJ, and AA, KL’s cousins at school, to come. The door to the vocational class was locked, but head boy opened it from the inside when he saw me coming.KL was wailing/ screaming / thrashing on the floor. I took a moment to “feel out” the situation. Many things ran through my mind. KL’s family has a strong history of mental illness, ancestor worship, and depression. [I know this from observation, recounted episodes, and investigation.]While still processing I got down on the floor and gathered her into my arms. The two teachers were praying loudly, her cousins were scared. As I held her, BJ joined me on the floor, tears in his eyes. After much time, KL settled, seemed to “awake” and began weeping. She said her mom was calling her to come. Other voices were reminding her she was a worthless orphan and that all those who loved her were dead. They told her to jump. While one of the teachers was reminding KL of reality, I spoke with the cousins. AA took KL to the dorms and the boys hung around, unwilling to leave.
The next afternoon I was again told to come, this time to the dorms. The girls were attempting to carry KL to the teacher as she was “suffering from evil spirits”. Telling the girls to wait I again gathered KL into my arms. As AA ran to get their older adult cousin, G, I began talking softly with her. She soon calmed down. AA returned with two adult cousins. Let me now interject- I believe in God and the devil. I have seen some evil stuff in my short lifetime. I also believe that we as humans are fallible- chemical imbalances in our brain, unhealthy behaviors, and the decisions we make are all factors to consider when observing behavioral changes.Back to the kids; in the dorm the girls were scared. Bekah found us and gathered the girls to talk/pray while I dealt with KL. Both Bekah and I believe these “evil spirit” attacks were meant to get attention. So after the second attack I played the role of “mean aunt” and got KL dressed in her uniform and sent her to class.
That night Bekah and I left school around 10 pm (escorted by three great students who live next door to us). The head master went to pray with each dorm (2 boys and 2 girls dorms) before lights out. At the first girls dorm he found MP suffering from an attack of evil spirits. Her dad was calling her to come home. Her dad is dead. Head master prayed for her and she was fine. Next dorm he literally catches AS running from the dorm in her night clothes, screaming. Again he prays, and she is then fine.
Here is the thing- this is intense. KL’s family has a deep rooted history of polygamy, ancestor worship, mental illness and depression. She is a double orphan. MP is a single orphan, a sweet girl whose family are predominantly Christian. AS lost her mother at infancy. When she wanted to join school here she became so sick she almost died. Head master went to her home and found the elders casting curses on AS and using talisman-like things. He destroyed the shrine and put out the ceremonial fire; AS became well almost instantly. Head master discovered that her mom died when she was a baby, so the elders performed some kind of ritual binding AS to her mother for all time. They buried the mom with something belonging to AS; head master is yet to discover what it was. AS said she was going to find her mom when head master caught her fleeing the dorm.
As I have said before, life here is intense. Are these girls being attacked? Why now? I am so thankful we have a godly head master who genuinely loves these students. It is not a job requirement to make sure the borders are tucked in each night, but he cares enough to do so. Since those three days there have been no other outbursts / attacks. I still don’t know what to think about it all.
KL had remained in the dorm all day, not going to classes because she was sick. MO was concerned with her behavior and was watching her closely. When KL left fellowship, MO followed. [Our school is built on a mountain side with random 20-30 ft drops- dangerous for klutzy girls like me and Bekah, easily manageable for these strong mountain people.] MO told me that KL was affected by evil spirits and asked me to come; MO had to fight to keep KL from throwing herself off the hillside when she left fellowship. After stopping KL, MO took her to the vocational classroom, left her with two teachers and called head boy for his advice. Head boy notified TD, BJ, and AA, KL’s cousins at school, to come. The door to the vocational class was locked, but head boy opened it from the inside when he saw me coming.KL was wailing/ screaming / thrashing on the floor. I took a moment to “feel out” the situation. Many things ran through my mind. KL’s family has a strong history of mental illness, ancestor worship, and depression. [I know this from observation, recounted episodes, and investigation.]While still processing I got down on the floor and gathered her into my arms. The two teachers were praying loudly, her cousins were scared. As I held her, BJ joined me on the floor, tears in his eyes. After much time, KL settled, seemed to “awake” and began weeping. She said her mom was calling her to come. Other voices were reminding her she was a worthless orphan and that all those who loved her were dead. They told her to jump. While one of the teachers was reminding KL of reality, I spoke with the cousins. AA took KL to the dorms and the boys hung around, unwilling to leave.
The next afternoon I was again told to come, this time to the dorms. The girls were attempting to carry KL to the teacher as she was “suffering from evil spirits”. Telling the girls to wait I again gathered KL into my arms. As AA ran to get their older adult cousin, G, I began talking softly with her. She soon calmed down. AA returned with two adult cousins. Let me now interject- I believe in God and the devil. I have seen some evil stuff in my short lifetime. I also believe that we as humans are fallible- chemical imbalances in our brain, unhealthy behaviors, and the decisions we make are all factors to consider when observing behavioral changes.Back to the kids; in the dorm the girls were scared. Bekah found us and gathered the girls to talk/pray while I dealt with KL. Both Bekah and I believe these “evil spirit” attacks were meant to get attention. So after the second attack I played the role of “mean aunt” and got KL dressed in her uniform and sent her to class.
That night Bekah and I left school around 10 pm (escorted by three great students who live next door to us). The head master went to pray with each dorm (2 boys and 2 girls dorms) before lights out. At the first girls dorm he found MP suffering from an attack of evil spirits. Her dad was calling her to come home. Her dad is dead. Head master prayed for her and she was fine. Next dorm he literally catches AS running from the dorm in her night clothes, screaming. Again he prays, and she is then fine.
Here is the thing- this is intense. KL’s family has a deep rooted history of polygamy, ancestor worship, mental illness and depression. She is a double orphan. MP is a single orphan, a sweet girl whose family are predominantly Christian. AS lost her mother at infancy. When she wanted to join school here she became so sick she almost died. Head master went to her home and found the elders casting curses on AS and using talisman-like things. He destroyed the shrine and put out the ceremonial fire; AS became well almost instantly. Head master discovered that her mom died when she was a baby, so the elders performed some kind of ritual binding AS to her mother for all time. They buried the mom with something belonging to AS; head master is yet to discover what it was. AS said she was going to find her mom when head master caught her fleeing the dorm.
As I have said before, life here is intense. Are these girls being attacked? Why now? I am so thankful we have a godly head master who genuinely loves these students. It is not a job requirement to make sure the borders are tucked in each night, but he cares enough to do so. Since those three days there have been no other outbursts / attacks. I still don’t know what to think about it all.
Alive and Kicking
Hello All-
I am alive
it was rough going for a while, but now i am doing much better. thanks so much for all the prayers.
i am going to go ahead and post all the blogs i have saved thus far, so please excuse the "dump" of information.
tired, weak, but not defeated. ready to head back home, but waiting one more day in town just in case i need a refill on the meds.
love you all.
I am alive
it was rough going for a while, but now i am doing much better. thanks so much for all the prayers.
i am going to go ahead and post all the blogs i have saved thus far, so please excuse the "dump" of information.
tired, weak, but not defeated. ready to head back home, but waiting one more day in town just in case i need a refill on the meds.
love you all.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A Diagnosis...
Good Morning:
The Dr. from the USA has made the official diagnosis for Leah as Malaria and Typhoid Fever. Both treatable and very good to have action plans and meds available to treat with success. No gallon club donor card in Leah’s future, nor will she have any immediate food handler’s permits for a short time. J She is” on meds, staying hydrated, doing ok and feeling much better” They and we are looking toward strong recovery.
Typhoid is caused by Salmonellae typhi bacteria and contracted by the ingestion of contaminated food or water. It responds to antibiotic therapy, there is usually improvement within one to two days and recovery within seven to 10 days. A one-celled parasite, plasmodium, causes Malaria. Many strains and types exist worldwide and quick treatment yields good results. Her Grandpa Lyons caught Malaria while serving in the Navy on a submarine during the Korean war, so it is not new to our family and treatment for it has come a long way. Feel free to smack the mosquitoes here in honor of Leah there….
Yes, she took precautions, boils and/ or filters the water used. Yes she had the required- to- enter- Africa, Typhoid vaccination. Bacteria and parasites come with the territory. Mosquito nets and water filters help a lot. We are still expecting the packages with the new filters to get to them soon.
We are very encouraged and hope that you are too! Makes for a great dark before the dawn Easter story reminder.
Our thanks and Leah’s for your outpouring of care, concern and prayers
The Roberts Family
The Dr. from the USA has made the official diagnosis for Leah as Malaria and Typhoid Fever. Both treatable and very good to have action plans and meds available to treat with success. No gallon club donor card in Leah’s future, nor will she have any immediate food handler’s permits for a short time. J She is” on meds, staying hydrated, doing ok and feeling much better” They and we are looking toward strong recovery.
Typhoid is caused by Salmonellae typhi bacteria and contracted by the ingestion of contaminated food or water. It responds to antibiotic therapy, there is usually improvement within one to two days and recovery within seven to 10 days. A one-celled parasite, plasmodium, causes Malaria. Many strains and types exist worldwide and quick treatment yields good results. Her Grandpa Lyons caught Malaria while serving in the Navy on a submarine during the Korean war, so it is not new to our family and treatment for it has come a long way. Feel free to smack the mosquitoes here in honor of Leah there….
Yes, she took precautions, boils and/ or filters the water used. Yes she had the required- to- enter- Africa, Typhoid vaccination. Bacteria and parasites come with the territory. Mosquito nets and water filters help a lot. We are still expecting the packages with the new filters to get to them soon.
We are very encouraged and hope that you are too! Makes for a great dark before the dawn Easter story reminder.
Our thanks and Leah’s for your outpouring of care, concern and prayers
The Roberts Family
Update from The Roberts Family...
Hello All:
I have just spoken with Leah and she sounds very good. She is in the hospital in Kabale and will be for a few more days. Lots of people will be going to visit her from all over Uganda. She even had a contact from someone in Sudan…She assures us all to be a peace and especially her family, who she thinks “need to stop freaking out”, cause she is on the mend. Gee, if your family (and not all family are blood relatives) doesn’t react to stuff, who can you count on to do it for you? It just means they love you….and they believe in prayer. Special thanks to Caylin for keeping us in the loop too.
I told her that the network went national on prayer chains, etc. So there was little option but to get better because she dislikes all the attention so much. She needs to relax in the soft bed and enjoy a hot shower or two. She calls Bekah her rock star, strong and steady, good to have her as a friend. We are sooo glad the girls have each other for support as well as the many Uncles, Aunts, brothers and sisters in Uganda who love and care for them.
Her dear friends, Matt and Crystal Kehn, will travel to see her on Saturday ( the children’s evangelists in Mbarra from the children’s home where Leah first started to fall in love with the kids). The Kehn’s just happened to have an American Dr friend visiting them who was going to Kabale today for a medical conference.( No coincidences in God.) A special thank you to Dr. Theron. He has checked her out and He is currently enroute to the hospital pharmacy with Bekah to get specific antibiotics for her recovery. The malaria tests came back negative. However, she explained that he advised doing treatment for it as it is a cyclic problem that occur 48 hours and make you feel flu like but will test negative if you test off the cycle. So…
The fever is probable cause for the seizures. No fever, no vomiting, no nausea, iv fluids to restore hydration. Doing great. Maybe some pesky parasites need eviction. It is comforting to know that although we have limits, God doesn’t and He has spies everywhere to tell us how she is….. ours Actually, having Leah tell us herself is wonderful. Faith and trusting go hand in hand and it is a challenge to let reign where fears want to intrude. What did you former experienced missionary friends of our endure all by yourselves?
She will email more when she is able. The rains have been so heavy travel is not easy, so access to the internet and electricity has been difficult and limited. We look forward to sending you a regular adventure next time. We are grateful for the internet and telephones. But we are especially grateful for all the support of so many who care about Leah.
Well folks, it is daytime in Uganda, but quite late here. Kind of cool to think Leah was better last night there when it was today here….
Thank you!
The Roberts Family
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