I had interested friends ask me to keep you updated, and I am so grateful for those of you who followed along with my journal and went, in spirit, with me to Uganda. I get texts everyday, via WhatsApp, from my new friends across the globe. I am happy to keep you informed.

Your prayers are working. I just learned there has been rain at the RG mission compound the last several days. Nurse Patrick thanks you for your prayers, and hopes this good soaking will be just what the gardens (farms) need these last weeks before harvest in a couple weeks.

I have a new prayer concern. My friend, Zam, the sweet one who had me over on her birthday and who gave us the video matooke-making lesson, has malaria in the third trimester of pregnancy. She asks for prayers for herself, her unborn son, Noah, and her husband, Robert (my buddy) for patience while she is in the hospital.

Some of the ladies sent their beadwork home with me to sell. So If you have an interest in supporting my Ugandan friends, and their incredibly time-consuming bead-craft appeals to you, please contact me. I am willing to mail them if you are willing to support these ladies. Contributions can be made at this link. Thank you.

This is the journal of my final week of six a mission in northern Uganda, home to 220 kids and staff.

Saturday 5/6

Today, Jess and I had planned to visit Chobe, a safari resort and restaurant, and one of the top ten most beautiful sites to visit (according to some travel app I don’t remember), but Jess is sick with a cold so we are postponing that outing for another day. Because of the change in plans, I slept in and had a lazy day of rest.

When I did get up, I did the laundry I neglected last night, then went to the library WiFi to upload last week’s journal notes. While I was there, I got a text from Robert and Zam, so I stopped by their home, where I got a lesson in matooke (plantain) steaming, which I recorded and posted to Instagram. When it came time to actually mash and steam the matooke, I recorded the process in time-lapse mode, and played it back for Zam and Promise, who had a great laugh about how fast they could move on my camera. When it was done, I was treated to an authentic Southern Ugandan dish, even while residing here, way up north. Zam and Robert come from Kampala, in the South, where matooke is preferred over cassava (yuca root). Here, cassava or posho are the staple carbohydrates.

I napped much of the afternoon, but was awaken by voices on the patio. I received a visit from my friends, K-Morris and Nelson, whom I had not seen in quite a while. It was nice to catch up, and I was a good Ugandan host, and served hot tea, complete with raw, local sugar. Two and a half spoonfuls is customary here. I’m pretty sure Ugandans drink tea for the sugar more than the tea itself. Even at work, the nurses say, “Mucungwa, you take tea. You need glucose.”

For dinner’s dessert, Judith sent Jess and me another bakery treat — pineapple pies. They were the size of little tarts, with filling that was brown, almost like a fig Newton, but far sweeter. I had one, and decided to save the rest for breakfast.

I went to the girls’ dorm to catch up with my friends there. It turns out I missed the girls’ football (soccer) match against Kamdini, the Town across the river to the north. Our girls won 6-0, but had begun to think I had forgotten them. I hung out and got a lesson in making, and then eating, chapati, a fried flatbread. It looks pretty simple and tastes delicious. It is wheat flour dough, rolled out and fried in a large pan. It reminded me of the elephant ears my family used to make with the Mullens at the Indiana State Fair, but without sugar. The girls made me right at home. They even forgave me for missing their match.

Sunday 6/6

Today's sermon referenced: “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name goes all the glory for your Preaching on the unfailing love and faithfulness of God, and how glory always goes to Him rather than the servant (Psalms 115:1).

Pastor Gitta Francis said this, and I loved it:

“Let them see You in me, Lord Jesus, not me, because when they see You in me they will see the best of me. …Also, only when they see You can they truly know You.”

Then he encouraged us with this word:

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10 NIV)

After church, I went to the girls’ dorm and recruited singers to help me wish my father-in-law a happy 92nd birthday. We sent him a video of ten of us singing “Happy Birthday,” first in the American style, and then Ugandan. Cindy tells me he loved it!

I went out to eat at Traveller’s, the only trustworthy restaurant near Karuma. Over lunch, Jessica tried to prepare me for re-entry, and told me it is a very real loss when we leave people we have grown to love. It was a funny thing being told this by another. That used to be one of my lines when I was the peer support guy at the Sheriff’s Office. I’m already anticipating the grief of saying goodbye to so many precious people here.

I had a nice visit with my dear friend, Robert, outside the office. We sat and talked like brothers catching up, since that is what we now are. It was a great time of honest, iron-sharpening-iron, fellowship of men.

As if that wasn’t wonderful enough, Pastor Gitta came up and officially invited me to his wedding ceremonies the week of October 30 - November 5. Guess where I’m going to try to be that week! I’m thrilled to be included in such a significant event, and I’m told nothing exposes me to the culture of Ugandans like attending a wedding. What a great one to initiate me!

There was a football match between our kids and the visiting team from Gulu. Since the score ended badly, we will just say it was a lovely afternoon. I was where I am happiest at such events — on the sidelines playing with the little ones. There is something about the sound of “Uncle!” coming out of these tiny faces that melts my heart.

At 8:00 PM, Ugandan President Museveni addressed the nation, and announced another Covid-related lockdown. This one has a soft-start, with school closures first, followed by a grace period for all kids to get home, then a ban on travel between districts starting June 10. I was concerned I would have to leave two days early to be in Entebbe before my June 12th return flight, but I have been assured my driver has “essential operator” clearance, and my plane ticket will serve as a roadblock pass. At any rate, I will not need to abbreviate my trip for this lockdown. However, things will drastically change around here. The ministry conference planned for the 10th through the 15th is cancelled. All the kids have gone into “home-school” mode, which I understand they were sort of doing already. The procurement personnel jumped for supplies, because a lockdown causes stockpiling.

I was up way too late talking with friends about the impact of this lockdown. So add sleeplessness for Mucungwa Todd to the list of illl-effects of the lockdown.

Monday, 7/6

It was slamming busy on the General Ward today and there was only one patient in Maternity. Just about the time we discharged a patient, another fighting for his/her life replaced the last one. I was told that one of my patients died during the night, and that always takes a toll.

In the wake of the President’s announcement, there is more emphasis on infection control, but not really where it counts. Like most of America, the emphasis is on the appearance of compliance rather than on clinically significant infection control. We nurses are all wearing masks and washing our hands, but we dry them on the same shared towel, and eat together in a storage closet. “Disposable” isn’t much of a thing here, so beds and floors are cleaned with a wet towel dipped in bleach water and used over and over again. Poverty is expensive!

There was a lot of talk about the lockdown being the hospital’s excuse to keep me here, but it was all in jest, and served a as a welcome ego boost. I really will miss this staff.

Judith spoiled me again at dinner, for which dessert was scones, kind of a sweet biscuit. She must think I’m an army, because she made enough for me and five others to have some now and keep some for later.

I trekked over to the boys’ dorm and then that of the girls, just to chat. After a while I returned to my own quarters for an early night. I was up too late last night. I’m beat!

Tuesday, 8/6

Janet, while teaching me to count in Acholi, said, “Teaching you is like teaching a cow how to dance!” How is that for a commentary on an old dog and new tricks! Later, I found out she was confusing me by adding in some Luwo, a similar dialect.

On the ward, I found out one of my patients, a new arrival yesterday, died on the evening shift. I knew she was in bad shape, but it always surprises me.

Today I got to meet the founder and CEO of the mission. He was very pleasant and welcoming. I look forward to getting to know him and his wife better.

I was invited to join a couple of the girls on a walk around part of the campus, so I did. They showed me one of the unoccupied housing units used by the teachers and the nurses. Each of these brick buildings has twenty units, each with two rooms, about eight feet square. There is a closet outside on the porch that was described as “the kitchen.” The toilet facilities are shared latrines connected to the building with a concrete path. The showers are separate. Each family gets one unit. There are a few grass thatch huts, far roomier, cooler, and with better ventilation than the apartments but, according to the girls, those are reserved for staff members with large families.

The girls showed me one of the pod houses, where the minor children live. Each brick pod house has a main living area attached to an open kitchen, two dorm rooms with four children each, and a house mom’s room, separated from the dorms. It is roomy and comfortable. Each dorm room and the mom’s room have their own toilet and shower. There are seven pod houses in each pod, and four pods. This is in addition to the adult student housing next door to Team House. It was an eye-opening tour. I am amazed at what Ugandans can do with very little resources, and apparently they are equally resourceful with space.

A group of sixteen travelers from Texas arrived tonight, and are staying in Team House. They had planned to host the ministry conference, but since the President’s address last night, plans may have changed. They are young and lively. While they settled in, I went next door and visited with the boys. I’ve gotten comfortable with them, and the older girls too. They have gradually accepted me. I’m glad I was here this long, and wish I could stay longer. When I spoke of plans to move to Uganda, I immediately earned extra credit with the kids. Not too many visitors talk about making Uganda their home.

When I got back to Team House, I heard a few of the visiting missionary team wondering out loud what they will do now that their plans seem foiled. I mentioned that I arrived six weeks ago with no plan at all, and it has gone splendidly. That seemed to take a little pressure off our anxious visitors. It feels funny being the experienced one in the house. It happened before with the Burlesons, but I’m playing the role of a peer host. It’s a comfortable part for me.

Wednesday 9/6

Today I took the day off from work to visit Chobe Safari Lodge, just outside Karuma, for a brief lunch outing. Jess was kind enough to accompany me, though she was still nursing a cold, but she was a good sport. Chobe is one of the many parks associated with Murchison Falls National Park, known the world over for its sightseeing safaris on the wildlife preserve. While we did not splurge for a safari, we did get to see several African animals in their wild habitats on the way to and away from the lodge: giraffe, warthogs, some species of deer, several monkeys, and even a hippo surfacing at lunch. One monkey jumped on my table to pick up some leftovers after Jess left. I don’t know what was funnier — the monkey on my table or the reaction of the other patrons. One lady threw a fit and tried to swat the critter with a cloth napkin, while another, clearly a local, whipped out a slingshot and started taking shots at him.

Chobe is known for its breathtaking view of the Nile, and it did not disappoint. I tried to capture it but the camera just doesn’t do justice to the majesty of this place.

By the time we got back, it was nearing 4:00 pm, and Jess asked to be dropped off at the hospital so she could return to see the doctor. I told the cab driver just to let me off there too, since I had not seen my friends all day. You would think I had deserted these hospital staffers in battle the way they carried on about missing me all day. It felt good to be missed.

I found Janet, who has been at me to play Chess with her, so we went to the library, where she gave me a sound beating at the game... twice. I went back to Team House, defeated, but happy to have shared the experience with my friend. Janet, who usually avoids organized devotions and church services but worships God nearly constantly by herself, promised to be there tomorrow morning to support me while I “preach” the staff devotion.

After dinner with the massive ministry team, I went to Robert and Zam’s for some more authentic family worship time. Just getting together with these folks makes me want to be closer to Jesus and makes me feel like I am. We sang worship songs until much later than their neighbors appreciated, I’m sure, and I walked home in the dark again.

Thursday 10/6

I finished the series Sophie assigned to me on the three attributes of God. This one addressed God as Father and Lord, as indicated by 1 Corinthians 8:5-6:

“For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”), yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.”

I spoke, not only about who God is as our Lord and Father, but who we are as His subjects and children, and tied in 1 Corinthians 15:58: “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord.” Afterward, men told me the talk was “very powerful,” and a couple of the women told me it made them cry. I take that as evidence God was speaking to them, not just me.

Work was fairly uneventful, although I did help a woman in labor until her family arrived and took over my role as encouraging hand-holder. The day was peppered with friends lamenting my upcoming departure. Charge Nurse Mirriam tried to forbid me to even speak during my last day, to keep me from making her cry again.

After work, Nurse Patrick called me over to the lawn in front of the nurses’ quarters, where most of my new nursing friends were gathered like a big family, just sitting in the grass, sharing time together. I made myself comfortable in the grass and joined the family, sharing stories and bouncing babies on my knee. I felt connected to this group, not as merely a visitor, but now as a member. Even when little Ethan wet my leg, we all laughed about it as a baptism into the family.

I had to cut my visit short for a dinner appointment with the founders of this mission. They were very hospitable and, after a brief talk, extended an invitation back anytime I am available to return. Apparently they had done some word-of-mouth investigation of me and heard good things. We enjoyed a nice dinner, then they taught me how to beat them at a dominoes game called Mexican Train. I accused them of being such great hosts that they let Jess and me out-score them, but they assured us it was merely the draw of the tiles.

After our dinner and games, I returned to the nurses’ quarters to keep my promise that I would. Mirriam, Nancy, and their children made me welcome again for a brief visit before I left because of the late hour. These nurses live amazing lives with so very little, and yet maintain a most precious attitude of grace, gratitude, and devotion to God. It is impossible not to love them.

Friday 11/6

Today is a sad day, as I tear myself away from a multitude of new friends. I was invited to join the nurses at 5pm behind the Dental Center building for a blessing of my journey.

At 2:00 PM, I left the hospital ward for the last time, and as grievous as it was, I managed to hold my tears in as I crossed through the gate. Just then, a troupe of four toddlers, the children of nurses, came running toward me from the nurses’ residence, yelling my Acholi name, “Mucungwa! Mucungwa!” As I crossed the path to greet them, they met me with hugs and pleas for me to hold them. That’s all it took to make the tears flow as I continued on the path back to Team House.

I have been washing my own hospital scrubs, and I had laundry to wash and dry before packing, but in this dry climate and equatorial sun, line-drying clothes does not take long. While walking along though, I recognized my regular laundry hanging on the lines at Liberty House, where my former housemate and hospitality chairwoman had moved to make room for this latest team. I guessed I might not get to pack until late. Still, I had time to wash what remained, hang it, and shower for the evening’s farewell blessing.

As I approached the hospital nearly 5:00 PM, I was told by several to go and visit Nurse Patrick first. I found him seated in the shade outside the nurses’ residence, and I pulled up a chair beside him. We talked and entertained what seemed like all the nurses’ children, but I love the little ones, so it was a joy. Mirriam’s daughter, Providence, finally warmed up to me after spending six weeks hiding from me as though my white skin might burn her. In fact, I had three toddlers fighting over space in Mucungwa’s lap, so we piled them all there, and laughed until time to join the others.

I expected a circle of friends, gathered by the river to say a quick blessing. I was wrong. They threw me a party like it was somebody special. There was an emcee, a meeting agenda, speeches by each nurse, dancing, presentation of gifts, reading of a love-letter written to me from all the nurses, a ceremonial cutting of the cake they had bought, and more dancing. In fact, I left my wall-flower personality in America and danced with everyone there, even Patrick and the children. It was great! Janet took pictures for me, which later proved to be a beautiful revisitation of the evening’s events.

After we had danced the sun down at the Nile River overlook, we all carried our table and chairs back to the hospital, and said, “farewell” one last time at the gate. Janet, who has become like a daughter to me, walked me to the Cessnun’s house, where my next engagement was awaiting.

Dr. Colby Cessnun and his lovely wife, Maryanne, took me, one more time to Traveller’s Lodge for a restaurant meal and a quiet getaway. They are always precious company, and this was a beautiful time of grateful reflection as we each exchanged feedback about my time here. There is no doubt I will return. As I described my “safe journey” party to them, I declared, “If I had any doubts as to whether my visit here made any difference, those doubts were eliminated in the last two hours.”

After dinner, the Cessnuns took me to their home, where eight of their ten children were waiting to say goodbye and share with me Maryanne’s famous Texas sheet cake. After saying goodbye to several chocolate-stained white faces, I went back to Team House, where my friends, K-Morris and Shalom were waiting to say their farewells. We talked and laughed on the front porch until I’m sure the visiting Americans thought we were crazy, and shared words of love and encouragement as we parted.

At my quarters I found all my laundry, even the scrubs I hung out this afternoon, folded and waiting in my hamper. Judith, Michael, and Robina have certainly spoiled me on this stay! They make an incredible hospitality team, even when occupied serving the giant team of sixteen Texans.

I got mostly packed and found it hard to sleep, so excited about the day’s events. I left a few things line-drying in my room, and once more set up my mosquito net, which I call “camp Mucungwa,” because I feel like I’m in a tent when it is up, and did my best to fall asleep.

Saturday 12/6

I think I hurt Cindy’s feelings. She asked if I was eager to be home, and I missed the opportunity to be a romantic husband and say something like, “I certainly cannot wait to be with you.” Instead, my true emotions came out: “No. I really don’t want to leave here.” I will certainly miss this place and all the dear friendships I built.

As I packed my now dry clothes and unstrung my nylon clothesline from around the room, I began to feel the sorrow of tearing away from this place. I got my luggage ready and was dressed for travel by 7:00, though my ride would not arrive until 8:00. I took the opportunity to go and visit my friend, Zam, who had been admitted to the hospital in the night for concerns about her pregnancy. She was surprised to see me, and we again shared blessings for one another. Her husband, my friend, Robert, sped me back to Team House on his motorcycle. When I got there, Shalom greeted me and walked me to the girls’ dorm to say a final farewell. The bitterness of goodbyes was mixed with the sweetness of fond friendships and my promise of return.

Coming back to Team House, we found the Cessnuns and Jessica, waiting to see me off. As my driver, Jeremiah, approached in his van, I remarked, “Now that’s the saddest thing I’ve seen since I got here.” We gathered for prayer and Colby said one final blessing for the journey and even my safe return.

On the way out of the second town to which we came, there was a soldier named Alex at the checkpoint, who noticed we had lots of room in our van. As soldiers are apt to do in this country, he asked if we might give him a ride to the capitol city of Kampala. It is nearly on the way to Entebbe, so we obliged. As he climbed into the van, he explained that he and his family were stranded by the travel ban and were staying in a village just down the road. We took a path that no one would call a road through some bush which opened into a hidden village. There we took on surprise passengers numbering five, apparently this soldier’s whole family, their household belongings, and even their furniture! After the delay of taking on these extras, I might have been concerned about the time lost, but we gained it back when, at each checkpoint, Lt. Alex displayed his uniform and his credentials got us moving right away. As we dropped him and his family off in Kampala, we exchanged contact information and he offered his contact numbers for use if either of us was ever in trouble. It turns out he is a commander with Legal Services in the UPDF (national army). I don’t plan on ever being in trouble, but it is always nice to make a friend.

Jeremiah took me to Test and Fly, the required Covid testing site, where my nasopharyngeal body cavity was probed for “emergency” (6-hour) testing. The result was promised by 8:00 PM, but it turns out that was in Uganda time, because the results came ten minutes later than I needed them in order to print them at my hotel.

Before the hotel stop, I invited my new friend and driver, Jeremiah, to join me for a late lunch at my favorite Ugandan restaurant, Faze 3, where I always get the same thing — goat pilau. Don’t knock it till you try it!

We went to Airport Guest House, where I rented a day room after confirming that I would be able to print my Covid results and get an airport shuttle at 8:00 PM. There, I said goodbye to Jeremiah and made myself comfortable for a two hour nap.

As I said before, the results which were promised by eight did not arrive by that time. By the time they did, I was late for my shuttle and the clerk who promised me printer access was out for dinner, so I left for the airport without my printed Covid result. (Note to self: never do that again!)

At the airport, the pandemic procedures require many stops and detours from the marked pathways of normal travel, but they are far worse if you do not have the required documentation. By the time I got through the six checkpoints plus two for not coming prepared, I was exhausted. Fortunately for me, Qatar Airlines prides itself of making their passengers comfortable and, as soon as I boarded the plane they did just that.

It breaks my heart to leave Uganda, but the travel process makes leaving even more difficult. To make matters worse, I forgot to make the two stops that are customary when departing: the CEO's house for a final goodbye, and the pharmacy for malaria medicine that apparently cannot be obtained if needed in the US. Oops!

Sunday 13/6

I cannot remember if I mentioned it or not, but Hamad International Airport in Doha, Qatar is absolutely amazing. It is colossal and grand in every way, except for their seating during this pandemic. For Covid distancing, every other seat is blocked off, so I’m on the floor, having given my seat to a lady. If the only thing I can do as a representative of Jesus and America in this land is sacrifice my seat, then a little discomfort is a privilege.

I promised Shalom I would not open her letter for me until I was in the air so, somewhere over the Mediterranean, I read her precious words through tears, as she became the second of the adult students to call me “Dad.” The letter is detailed in its content and outlines four godly characteristics which this precious young woman claims to have witnessed in my fellowship: self-control, initiative, leadership, and discernment. I know I’ve said this before, but if I doubted whether I mattered on this trip, this casts out the doubt.

I arrived safely in Chicago, as well as one can be who only got up once during a 13.5-hour flight. As a nurse I can give the nursing diagnosis of inefficient blood perfusion to the gluteal tissues, with risk of necrosis. In lay terms that is translated: “My butt is dying here!” I felt like that flight definitely needed an intermission, or a calisthenics break or something.

“Let them see You in me, Lord Jesus, not me, because when they see You in me they will see the best of me. …Also, only when they see You can they truly know You.”

-Pastor Gitta Francis

Afterward

I've tried to live each day like I was on a mission for God for at least the last seven years, so I suppose it should not come as a surprise that my trip to Uganda felt a lot like living normal life but in a new place. I tried to demonstrate God's love everywhere I went and to as many as I could, to reflect the grace of Jesus and encourage those I meet with the love of the Holy Spirit. When I got the chance, I preached the Word. I built relationships that I know will last an eternity. I reflected grace as best I, a mere human, could. In the end, I believe God was glorified in my going, and the people with whom I had contact felt a little more connected to a heavenly kingdom not bound by the geography of Africa or America, but limitless and eternal.

I was moved by the concerns of my new friends, and my heart hurts for what hurts them. I did more than just eat their local food. I lived among them for a short while, and I listened to their hearts without condescending as a doctor to a nurse, a rich to a poor, or an American to an African. I ached when I heard my friends relate their belief that Americans think they are poor, dumb, evil people, little more than baboons. I was amused that the children kept rubbing my hands to see if the white would come off, but remembered how alien Mirriam said she had felt when visitors acted like her blackness might do the same. I listened and learned more than I taught or coached and, in so doing, made myself more welcome than a hundred lecturers or preachers.

Before leaving for Uganda, I was asked, "What is your mission?" It seems an easy question, but I fumbled with the answer. I know I was going to find out more, to discover what this particular mission does, has, needs, and where I might eventually fit in. As a missionary, though, I felt like I should be bringing something: some word, ability, or supplies that they had reduced access to. What I found here was an apparent oasis of hope in a land where hope is scarce, one not just seasoned with the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, but permeated with it. Where I thought I might teach nurses some better Western way, I learned how to do much with little and make do without, giving God the glory and allowing Him to be in control regardless. My mission? It was to "go and do likewise," to "go into all the world...making disciples," yes, to preach, but mainly to love, care, and respect in the name of Jesus.

Mission accomplished!

Call to action

If you're still reading this, it means you are either really bored or have invested a part of your life in this adventure. Thanks! May I ask you to do something? Would you please pray for rain and a good harvest in the gardens of my friends? Food security weighs heavily on the minds of even the salaried staff here. They rely on their crops to feed their families, and this wet season has been devastatingly dry.