Monthly Archives: April 2014

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Day Seven, April 21:

Up before dawn which, at the equator, is always 7am, we finally got to experience one of the infamous Ugandan power outages. We were told that it had been an Easter miracle that our power had only been off for a few hours one night while we were sleeping, but now it was out for real, and just as we were needing to pack and leave. Laurie Dickerson, Carol's houseguest, had the place nicely illuminated with candles, and was browning toast in a skillet on a gas-burning stove for us. Laurie is a missionary herself, a pastor of the Four Square Church. She has been quite the helper and well of advice and anecdotal reference. She let us know when our plans were too crazy to be carried out, but I think we left Carol and Laurie both fairly convinced we were crazy, maybe just crazy enough.

It was tough to say goodbye, but Anthony's urging and his warning that we really needed to arrive in Gulu by dark was enough to get us going. It seemed like such a short stay!

As we left the Fort Portal area, we left behind the wealth and cleanliness of their community too. I noticed even the soil seemed less rich, as the clay began to turn from a dark red to a more yellow orange. The clothing of the people we passed got dingier and a little more tattered, though it was still dresses, trousers and dress shirts, short-sleeved ones began to appear, some with holes torn in them from wear and t-shirts began to show up in greater number. The houses got a little farther apart, and a little more run-down, and I felt like we had crossed over into a more rural Uganda.

20140423-163918.jpgAs Cindy and I began to doze Anthony woke us up with the call, "baboons!" There along the side of the road as we crossed through the Budongo Forest, was a group of baboons, pretty as you please! Neither Cindy nor I could get to a camera fast enough to prove it, but Anthony assured us they would be along the road in several places. Sure enough, eight million potholes later, as we wound our way through the clay obstacle course that passes for a road in Northwest Uganda, as we skirted the Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda's largest game park, we encountered dozens of baboons, all lining the highway as if on display. A few seemed as interested in us as we were in them, but we didn't stop, and we kept in mind the advice we got from Laurie earlier: don't open your windows around baboons no matter what. Apparently baboons are very curious and also aggressive.

20140423-163858.jpgWe crossed the Nile River and were both surprised to see a beautifully roaring river over rocks and falls, rather than the long sleepy hippo watering hole we had both pictured in our heads. I guess the Congo River Rapids ride at Busch Gardens was named for this part, not the sweet stream that gently brought Moses to Pharaoh's daughter. Speaking of Congo, we spent the day paralleling the mountain chain that separates D. R. Congo from Uganda. We could only imagine what was going on just the other side of those mountains.

After we crossed the Nile was when I think we began seeing the round mud huts with thatched grass roofs one sees in storybooks about African people. These huts, though, were really neatly made, most appeared cleanly kept, and efficient for their purpose and the climate. I was amazed at how nice some were. Painted with solid doors, some had clothes lines strung between them. Others had laundry drying right on the grass roof. Seeing the ventilation and the thick layers of grass used in the construction, I began to feel sorry for the folks in rectangular brick houses under tin roofs in the equatorial sun.

As we neared our destination much earlier than we had feared, Anthony announced he was hungry much to my relief. We stopped at a roadside restaurant in Kamdini and had some chicken and rice to tide us until supper. Nancy Cordoza, our Gulu hostess, had prepared us dinner so we kept our late lunch light. It was a compromise for me to eat at a roadside restaurant, given the health concerns, but I prayed extra fervently over it and God kept it from being a problem. Cindy, however, had exhausted our supply of G-nuts while we weren't looking, and was too full for roadside fare. She amused herself taking pictures of me taking the adventuresome risk.

Nancy met us at a landmark hotel near her house because (and she is not the first) meeting us and directing us in was easier than giving directions on unnamed (or at least unmarked) roads. When we arrived at her compound, we were shocked at the aesthetic appeal. Even the walls and gates were ornate. The house was no different. Nancy explained the rental process and the fact there are no public utilities was how she found such a bargain, but she makes a lack of refrigeration and laundry work well for her, and we found it comfortable too. Cooking with gas, assisted by a pressure cooker, she prepared us a Ugandan dinner of beans, rice, chicken, bananas, and odie (G-nut sauce).

She made her home our own as she described her ministry to the local Acholi women. She is currently running a quilting group and looking for marketing venues in the U.S. And Canada, to help the women support themselves. She showed us some of the quilts and they were very nice. This group meets on Tuesdays, so we will join them tomorrow.

I got to talk to my daughter briefly tonight, in an attempt to resolve my banking issue, but it's way past bedtime. So good night.

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Day Five, April 19:

Normally nine hours of road travel would be a bland tale. Even as a kid I remember the car bingo games to make the time pass on long car trips. Today, however, was eventful, educational, eye-opening, and heart-warming.

20140420-212404.jpgAs we passed from the Buganda territory into the Tooro kingdom, we noticed a change in the landscape, which became more mountainous. There were more and bigger farms with more apparent organization. The strings of markets had longer gaps between them, and seemed to team with greater numbers of people when we arrived at them. In between those markets and the beautiful farms were some of the most primitive looking houses we have seen. Many looked like so many we passed before, but I became aware today that what I thought were market booths were merely the front of what served as homes to the families of those who operated them. Then I began to see less equipped homes, some just sticks and mud, others even woven papyrus mats or grass thatch huts. Surrounding them were families, all gathering for the Easter holiday when, traditionally, families return home to spend time together feasting. Butcheries were popular as folks prepared for the holiday, with most drawing crowds forming lines as a butcher hacked away at a side of beef right at the roadside. I saw a man dragging a steer's head down the road, using its horns as skis to help him drag the weighty load. Anthony explained that the head would be boiled and the meat used for stew. The poverty I witnessed today made me ashamed to be such a self-indulgent, wealthy person, so oblivious to the lives lived by the less privileged. It would get worse before the day was over.

On our way to Fort Portal, however, we got to drive through the Queen Elizabeth National Park, a game preserve. We saw wild elephants, impalas, water buffalo, and some kind of antelope the name of which neither Cindy nor I could remember. Let me tell you, I never imagined we would ever see such things without going on a game drive, and I honestly never imagined we would do that either, so this was a big deal! Especially the elephants. Cindy loves elephants like kindergartners love ice cream. It was an exciting bit of travel!

As we neared Fort Portal, things cleaned up, and it was apparent this was a wealthier region. We found our destination without any trouble and I was amazed at the size and structure of it. Carol Adams, our sweet host, greeted us like family and showed us around the facility of the Youth Encouragement Services (Y.E.S.) hostel, office, and her home. The ten-room, forty-six bed hostel helps to fund the children's home, situated on another property in the village. The home, she explained, nurtures thirty children who suffer from AIDS, a condition that stigmatizes them as "throw away" children. "Why bother caring about you? You're walking dead anyway," Carol described the sentiment regarding such kids. She showed us pictures, however, of kids thriving under the care of the home, and reported of many adopted out and living full, healthy lives in loving homes. In addition to the thirty AIDS inflicted residents of the home, Carol oversees the external project, which ensures that some three hundred children attend school and have necessary supplies, and then follows their progress to ensure the kids do not neglect the gift. By her description she is called by some "the mean Mzungu (white) momma" but is respected by all of them, because they are well aware of her maternal love for all of them. She showed us pictures and told stories of how her love for these people has returned to her in any number of public demonstrations and of quiet gestures. Love like we observed in the heart of this woman and heard in the reports of the objects of her affection gave little doubt that we were in the presence of a heroine of the Kingdom of God, and a pioneer of Christ's loving mercy in these parts.

Carol had a delivery to make, a gift of holiday money from a former employee to a family of twenty-three orphans overseen by their grandmother, who had lost nine of her thirteen children. We went along. As we started out down the washed out clay road, it was good we were in a four-wheel drive truck, a twenty-two year old Suzuki Nomade. No mere car could've made this trip. When we pulled up to the house I remembered some of the stick and mud homes I had seen and thought this was much nicer than it could be. The outside was smooth with defined edges and paint, but was far too small to imagine twenty-three orphans dwelling in it. The inside had concrete floors, and four rooms: one tiny common area, a dark room to either side, one for boys and one for girls, and another room off the girls' room for "Mamma" the old woman who raised all these grandchildren. In each of the bedrooms there were only three or four beds, but several sleep together in each. Outside and behind the house, there was a structure of sticks with a low metal roof. Painted on the side was the word, "kitchen," which I thought strange considering only the oldest kids spoke any English at all, and that was very little. The kitchen was just a dark covered space where a fire was burning at one end, and an empty pot was burning on the coals. There was a pen adjacent to the kitchen, but no livestock in it, although from the smell there had been something recently. The worst, most impoverished housing I have ever seen in the U.S., even in all my years working the lowest income parts of Jacksonville, were palatial compared to this. The children who were there gathered for a quick photo for the visiting Bzungu (white people) and the older ones thanked us for visiting. Our tour guide had been a girl of fifteen both Carol and I suspected of being pregnant, but who seemed intent on trying to hide it. As we left we discussed the old woman's failing health, lack of self-care, refusal to seek Western medical attention, and dependence on traditional herbalists. Upon her demise, the children will be left to fend for themselves, eating what they grow and doing what they can to survive. Three of the twenty-three are in school because of the Y.E.S. program and have a chance at success.

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Day Four, April 18 (posted one day later):

What a beautiful landscape Uganda has! Our driver, Anthony, met us at lunchtime yesterday at the Sunset Hotel, where we had a nice lunch before starting the journey to Masaka. With our late start, roads only two and a half lanes wide crowded with boda-bodas, pedestrians, all manner of truck, bus, and car, and the beginning of school holiday starting, there was a very slow ride to Masaka. There is a rich dark clay soil here that is used in the production of just about every building and even roads. The clay appears to crumble under pressure though, so many buildings are in disrepair and many roads are peppered with washed out holes. Our driver was certainly kept alert for his work!

I thought we had arrived at a marketplace, but soon learned that the "market" lines all the roadway in populated areas. Tiny booths, some of sheet metal, some clay brick, and others just stick huts, crowded together like a never ending flea-market. Everyone seemed to be selling something, and only a few, like furniture craftsmen and basket weavers, actually made anything. Farming accounted for some, but not all the market, as most were peddling clothing, used items, or just mobile phone airtime cards. Surprising was the number of idle people just watching traffic ride by.

20140419-065528.jpgWe made one stop at the equator, an obvious tourist attraction and photo opportunity. It isn't every day one crosses the equator! There was a restaurant built right on the line, and they kept the line painted with a stripe through their dining room. Very amusing! We used a public toilet and as I left it I heard a little girl ask me something but I couldn't understand her. I asked her to repeat herself three times and finally concluded she was asking me if I wanted to buy ice cream, so I said, "No, thank you" and walked away. Later it occurred to me, as I wondered why she would giggle so at my response, she was probably asking me if the bathroom was clean, prompting me to tip her. I missed that one!

Huge termite mounds dotted the red clay landscape. Matooke (plaintain) farms lined the unpopulated areas except those near the swamps, which were cluttered with fish peddlers so desperate to sell their tilapia that they stepped into traffic holding their catch as it twitched and flapped in their hands demonstrating its freshness. The swamps themselves were covered in a reed I had never seen before, but which Anthony told me was papyrus.

We ended up meeting Kelsey Linduff, her precious family and friends just as the sun set over the rolling green hills, and were welcomed into her home and hearth while Anthony caught up with Alex, Kelsey's security guard, whom he knew from their home village of Jinja. Kelsey's precious daughters greeted us with hand-drawn pictures addressed to "Mr. Todd" and "Mrs. Cindy." The children were precious and made us feel right at home. We shared stories with Kelsey's other guests and a wonderful meal prepared by Amanda, Kelsey's roommate. Before it got too late, Cindy reminded me we were not family and should get going, and we were led to the Zebra Hotel only a few kilometers away.

The hotel room was spacious and well equipped, but charged by the minute for web access, so I didn't write last night. We retired early and got up for breakfast this morning, baked matooke in a tangy pepper sauce that was wonderful. We met Kelsey at her home and her daughters pointed out the two monkeys swinging in the trees. As fascinated as I was with that, their eyes got even bigger when they reported that recently they had even been visited by a squirrel. Imagine being bored with monkeys and excited by a squirrel! I can't.

20140419-065623.jpgWe rode to the Okoa Refuge and spent a lot of the morning playing with the babies and toddlers. Cindy was in her element, as she found one of the recent additions, Lydia, who clung to Cindy like she belonged with her, and nestled quietly in her arms. I, on the other hand, played jungle gym to the rowdier boys, and was christened with slobber, snot, and all while I enjoyed the giggles of strangers who suddenly weren't so strange, and loved my little brothers and sisters like family for a good while. Around 11:00 and into the early afternoon we were serenaded by the primary schoolers. After listening to an educational Good Friday Bible story by Providence School graduate Audrey, the kids demonstrated a traditional Ugandan dance and took turns introducing themselves in song. It was wonderful, and I was glad to be in their audience. Afterward, Liv, Tyler, Kelsey and the other guests, Cassie and Katie, along with Amanda and the Workman's youngest, Judah, went for a walk to see the new clinic structure and the community center, both newly constructed for the benefit of the locals. It was wonderful to see the potential of those buildings and hear the vision of what is to come through the descriptions by Tyler and Liv. Vocational training, youth entertainment and involvement projects, and health training clinics and services, all in the name of making friends, for only in making friends can one make disciples.

This evening we will tour one of Okoa's rural facilities and see the new piggery. Tyler is excited about the prospect of helping families in the community, as well as Okoa grow more self-supporting through this project. Afterwards, we will dine with the Workmans and retire to the hotel. Anthony tells me we need to make an early start for Fort Portal tomorrow if we are to get there before sundown.

The view from the Zebra Hotel is beautiful! Also, I could get used to this food. It is quite tasty, yet mostly plant-based and unprocessed. If only more Americans ate this way!

Later:
While we were touring the new piggery, an amazing sight even for this transplanted mid-westerner, Liv got a call that a two-month old child had been found abandoned, and was now at the police station, waiting to be picked up. The ministry is so well respected they are the first choice call for such situations. The age estimate was probably off because the child we picked up was two weeks old, three tops, not two months. It breaks the heart to think of someone leaving a child like that at a hospital food distribution center, but warmed it to know that my new friends were there to raise this boy if need be, and care for him in the meantime if not. Inspirational!

We finished the day with a dinner out with the Workmans and Audrey at a restaurant called Port 9 (I think), a quiet cafe, until we got there. The kids all over the village, including our present company, Shami, Gideon, and Judah, were all excited about a termite swarm. Apparently, the kids collect them and the mommies fry them up. Our troupe spilled their bowlful before they made it to the kitchen, although the verbal agreement was already made with the restaurant to fry them up. What do you say to such an appetizing appetizer? You thank God the bowl broke!