Thursday, 14 October 2021
Yesterday, after I posted, a half dozen or so of the adult RG kids came over and we had a watermelon party. While we laughed and ate watermelon, the girls decided to prepare the entula I had brought from Kamdini. They finished cooking it just as they were required to go to preparatory class (“Preps”), so we postponed the second half of our gathering until 9:30 pm, when class would let out.
When they went to class, I went to visit Robert and Zam. Robert was giving a piano lesson to teenager Ben Cessnun and the subject was worship music, so I was asked to join in. I always like that we turn to worship at Robert’s house. Zam wouldn’t let me leave without feeding me matooke (steamed plantains) and I have learned not to hurt her feelings. I did manage to excuse myself just in time to find Janet about to give up on getting into the dark and empty Team House. I opened up the place and welcomed my closest six plus one to a sampling of the entula, mixed with the beef and rice RG had catered for my dinner. I do so love these kids! I hope they can tell. Janet tells me it is obvious, but I want them to know their Heavenly Father loves them even more than I, their visiting “uncle.” Earlier, Charge Nurse Miriam visited to tell me of a tragedy in her father’s home, and during her visit affirmed that no one has loved her and cared for her concerns like I have. It was evidence of the answers to my constant prayer that God would pour out so much loving grace on me that it flows into the lives of others. It was my favorite day so far.
Today I will be back at the General Ward, but only to disappoint the staff with the news that I must abandon them again tomorrow. My new landlady informed me that she has had a death in her family, and will not be able to meet Saturday. I agreed to meet her Friday morning instead, so I will sign rental papers and pick up my keys then.
Later…
At work, Sister Sophie told me the man who was supposed to give the devotion this morning was inexplicably absent. She asked me to fill in. 1 Peter 3:15 says we should always be ready to give account for the hope we profess, and this was an example of the need for readiness. I taught on Galatians 2:20, and what it means to crucify the sinful nature. I explored a more in depth look at that teaching by Paul in Ephesians 2.
On rounds we found a woman who had signs of hypoxia and appeared in severe distress. I brought out the pulse oximeter and found her pulse oxygen saturation to be 55%. (It is supposed to be 94 to 100%.) The last time I saw one that low, the patient was dead inside two hours. While the doctors issued orders, I administered medicine while another nurse fetched an oxygen concentrator from the other ward. Within a few minutes of deep breathing coaching on oxygen, her oxygenation was up to 96%. I call that a good save. I was only one who responded to this need, but even in Luo, this lady expressed her appreciation, and we said a blessing over each other.
Shortly after tea, Dr. Colby Cessnun approached me and said he had to immediately go to Gulu and offered to take me along. I try not to pass up an opportunity to learn something from an American who has been in country as long as Colby has, so I hurried home, changed my clothes, and zipped over to Colby’s house, where his wife, Maryanne, and youngest son, Silas, were waiting to go.
I got to chat and pick the brains of both Colby and Maryanne on the way, and study the places they went and the people they met. The Immigration Office was the destination of the day and, although that effort was unfruitful, we made several stops that proved educational.
One such was a visit with the founders of Wend Africa, an organization that assists children with Nodding Syndrome, a rare condition that effects the neurological patterns of certain children who grew up in this area. It’s cause of yet unidentified. To pay for these benefits, Jolly (pronounced Joe-Lee) and Emmy employ seamstresses to sew fine handbags and dolls which are sold for profit. Jolly was excited to report the recent expansion into an Amazon Marketplace. Watch for it. When I told Jolly how much Cindy loves teaching women to sew, she begged for me to bring her in quickly.
We went to lunch at The Iron Donkey (what locals call a bicycle), and it was very good. After we ordered though, since everything is made to order, we had time to go to Cynibel, the local supermarket I have mentioned before. I took the opportunity to get some more bread for my nightly guests, who love making it into buttered toast.
On the way home, we stopped at and toured my new apartment. Maryanne and Colby seemed thrilled with my choice and commended my adaptability. Maryanne paid me a high compliment when she told me she could tell I was the kind of person who will not only make it here, but do very well. It can be intimidating being in a foreign land, so that feedback was very welcome.
On the road, I could begin to feel a sore throat coming on. My chronic sinus infections don’t care much for extra dust or smoke, and I’m afraid I was paying for the previous day’s Boda ride. When I got to Team House, I but my mango juice and grapefruit juice I had bought into the freezer to chill, and then crashed on the couch. It was one of those good naps, the kind you wake from all sweaty and disoriented.
I almost missed the sound of Olivia knocking sheepishly at my door. She came in with Prisca and Janet right behind. I grilled the girls some toast the way they like it and shared some of my mango juice and biscuits (butter cookies) from Cynibel, and it was a party again. Since I was in no mood for eating, the girls split up my beans and rice, and even left me some for breakfast.
I spoke briefly with Cindy, who is frantically trying to get our house ready for market. She has her hands full, and could use your prayers. We need to sell that thing before too many more mortgage payments come due.
Tonight I am sleeping with Vick’s Vapor Rub in my mustache and Sudafed and Benadryl in my belly. I hope to wake up a new man. Tomorrow is lease-signing day!
I did not wake up feeling like a new man, but maybe like a gently used one. I still have the sniffles and an occasional cough, but not enough to make anyone flee in terror yelling about Corona, and my fever is gone. I had my grapefruit juice this morning, and tried to explain what a grapefruit is to Hosman, who came to visit me for breakfast.
Friday, 15 October 2021
Patrick and I set out for Gulu at 8am sharp, but since the first step of travel like this is to wait at the Boda stand for our ride, it can feel like schedules are really out the window. We took a Boda to Karuma, then caught a north-going car and crossed the awe-inspiring but deadly Karuma Bridge. Before we even got to the next town (Kamdini) we had to slow down to let a family of elephants cross the road. As exciting as it is to be this close to wild elephants, the driver was more worried about his car, and told us stories of these giants overturning cars that got too close.
We met Molly the landlady a little before our 11 o’clock appointment, and we went around inspecting the place for damage. I signed the rental agreement, and transmitted the first three and a half months’ rent to Molly on the spot. People pay for almost anything with their cell phones here. At any rate, I rented an apartment in Uganda!
We described to Molly our intentions of buying furniture, and she was kind enough to drive us to her favorite furniture vendor, warning us about the cheaper goods sold by most of the furniture vendors in Gulu. I had heard the same warning from my friend, Nancy Cardoza, who had the experience of buying furniture made with green rather than seasoned wood, and the furniture quickly fell apart. We fairly quickly found a pair of living room chairs, a bed, and a mattress, but were unable to find a dining set in Gulu. We bought a few household necessities and hired a truck to drive us and our plunder home. Patrick was kind enough to help me set up the furniture and sweep the apartment. Then, on our way back to RG, he told me of a town south of Karuma that would have the quality furniture we were seeking, for less than the Gulu prices. Instead of turning off to RG when we got to Karuma, we continued on to Bwayale.
This town was a second home for Patrick, who attended nursing school and met his wife here. It seemed he knew everyone, and he knew just where to find the dining set and a van to haul it. Since it was so late, we had the van driver take it and us to Team House for safe keeping.
It was late, and Patrick and I were exhausted and hungry, so we said our goodbyes. Just then, the girls showed up: Janet, Prisca, and Shalom. I could tell that something bad had happened to Shalom but she wouldn’t say what. Having friends here is a lot like having daughters. I just quietly love them and let them talk when they are ready. Hungry as I was, I still didn’t feel much like eating, so the girls shared my supper. Prisca and Janet laughed and carried on while Shalom quietly busied herself with washing their dishes. I cannot stop that girl. She believes that every gift must be earned. I’m afraid that mentality seeps into the cultural understanding of grace too. It is hard to explain the difference between working for grace and serving out of gratitude for it. Or maybe it is I who misunderstand the gratitude of my new friends.
Saturday, 16 October 2021
I slept in today and readied myself for a motorcycle trip to Karuma as soon as Janet was finished with Saturday class at 10:00 am. We finally got underway around 11:30 with quite a shopping list. Around here, when word gets out that you are going to town, people appear with their wish lists. I was going because I failed to get my little circle the pork and pineapple they requested I bring back from Gulu yesterday. As I approached the Boda stand outside RG Hospital, my friend, Patrick, was waiting for me with a borrowed motorcycle. An experienced Boda man himself, Patrick drove Janet and me to Karuma, and the three of us loaded ourselves down with groceries to take back to RG.
Patrick topped off his supply of staples while Janet and I went crazy planning a dinner for our little circle of friends. We bought pork from an open air butcher cutting pieces off with a machete (called a “panga” here), potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and another great big watermelon. Janet somehow talked me into buying her a bucket of pineapple flavored cookies (“biscuits”) that should last the whole dorm of girls a month, but which will likely be gone inside a week.
When we returned to Team House, a half dozen girls showed up and began preparing a feast from the groceries we bought and the fresh entula left from the day before. When the food was prepared, the girls all began to say goodbye, and told me they would be back to eat after what I swear they were calling “Lifeburn.”
Last week on Independence Day, I was under the impression there was a visiting band called Lifeburn. I was not interested in hearing any such and had a date with Patrick’s family anyway, so I didn’t think much about it. But here it was again, this strange event called Lifeburn. I asked where this band was from and mentioned something about having been burned enough in my life, and the girls squealed with laughter. Finally someone made it clear that what was being said was not Lifeburn but “live band.” This is an example of the problems I have as a hard-of-hearing American trying to decipher the words of these precious Ugandans speaking English as a second language.
As it turns out, Live Band night is something like a talent show of worship the kids do about once a month. Last week it got rained out, so this was sort of a do-over. It was an absolute blast! When I was growing up, our church would have nights called “singspiration” where we would sing instead of listen to a preacher. Imagine that on steroids with dancing, whooping, and hollering. When I was little, sometimes my sisters, brother, and I would put on a talent show for our parents. Imagine that times 225. It was worshipful, fun, and crazy, and I was so glad I went!
Before that event, I forgot to mention the football match (soccer game) we we watched in the gym. My new team, Liverpool, won 5 goals to none. So that made up for the report I got that LSU beat my Gators in American Football.
After Live Band, a dozen or more kids showed up at Team House, and we all shared fried pork, potatoes (which are called “Irish potatoes” or simply “Irish” to differentiate from the African Sweet Potatoes, simply referred to as “potatoes”), entula with eggs, and watermelon for dessert. It was quite a feast, and it was nice to fill Team House with so many smiling faces even when I am staying here alone.
A couple of the kids hung behind to talk with me privately. Since I have my new dining set set up outside on the covered porch, it is a nice place to have these personal chats. It is an honor to have these kids open up to me and share the burdens of their hearts. One confessed she was reluctant to trust me because so many come and never return, but she could see that my love for the RG kids was real and that I would be around. I love it when God does His thing!
