Now that we've arrived safely back in Kampala, I feel like I can post just how harrowing the trip is - especially when completed in a baby car.
The road out of Kampala is rough, filled with potholes. With good swerving action, it's possible to avoid many of them. Several miles out, construction started. Except one of the first steps of construction here is to put humps every 10 feet for 6 km or so. It was okay, we were expecting it. We came through the humps thinking we were past the worst. Then the real potholes started. These are the kind that blanket the road and are impossible to avoid, and we got really friendly with the shoulder. Once past the potholes, the road to Gulu was excellent. Potholes were rare and we made up for lost time. And then came the road to Kitgum. Oh, the road to Kitgum. It was 107 km of red dirt road, mostly washboard, and full of pot holes, rocks, people, bicycles, and bodas.
You can imagine how much we were looking forward to our drive today. We'd had a request to take some students and their teacher with us to Kampala. We told them that we had to leave at 7, and would be gone at 7:15 if they were not there. And then we forgot to turn our phone off silent. Oops. We woke up at 7 and ran out the door to find breakfast and our travel mates waiting. We were out of Kitgum by 7:45 and in Kampala by 3:30 - really good timing considering. And all of those humps - construction had progressed and most were gone. The potholes on the way in to Kampala - filled. Praise. God.
If we had not already asked our watchman to clean our car, I would have posted a picture. Instead, you will have to imagine a blue Toyota Corsa covered in red dirt. As we drove back from dinner tonight, we discovered that our headights were not all that effective what with the coating and all.
After passing off our passengers, we took warm showers, put on clean clothes, and drank cold mango juice. The maid was recalled to do our laundry, and we went to the mall food court for a mojito and a fanta. As much as we enjoyed trying out millet, we really enjoyed our pizza for dinner. And then we came home to clean laundry and an evening to ourselves. God is good.
The next two days look full, and then it's off to KENYA. Time is flying - I can't believe our trip is over halfway done!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday in Kitgum
The English church service this morning started at 7 am. The Luo service started at 8:30. For purposes of sleep and cultural experience, we decided to take on the Luo service. Young children came up to sit at the front throughout, and the first girl came with a baby tied on her back. She couldn’t have been much older than 8, and I could only wonder where the parents were.
At lunch, the Bishop’s wife suggested we visit one of the child-headed households that Good Samaritan funds had helped support. Five of us crammed into our baby car, and we drove to a “development” on the other side of town. I use the term development for lack of any other word. It was a collection of small huts filled with the kind of dirty children you only see on child sponsorship ads. As we pulled in, kids crowded around us – some half naked, two fully naked, few smiling, most staring. Out of the crowd, the Bishop’s wife and the Mother’s Union worker found two girls from the household we were there to see. They were around 7 and 9, the youngest two of five, and painfully shy. Their parents were victims of HIV/AIDS, and as I thought about their lives and those of their siblings – the oldest was 15 – I was hard pressed to keep the tears from flowing. It will take a long time to get the image of Winifred and Fiona out of my mind.
I came to Africa hoping that my heart would be broken. It has been.
At lunch, the Bishop’s wife suggested we visit one of the child-headed households that Good Samaritan funds had helped support. Five of us crammed into our baby car, and we drove to a “development” on the other side of town. I use the term development for lack of any other word. It was a collection of small huts filled with the kind of dirty children you only see on child sponsorship ads. As we pulled in, kids crowded around us – some half naked, two fully naked, few smiling, most staring. Out of the crowd, the Bishop’s wife and the Mother’s Union worker found two girls from the household we were there to see. They were around 7 and 9, the youngest two of five, and painfully shy. Their parents were victims of HIV/AIDS, and as I thought about their lives and those of their siblings – the oldest was 15 – I was hard pressed to keep the tears from flowing. It will take a long time to get the image of Winifred and Fiona out of my mind.
I came to Africa hoping that my heart would be broken. It has been.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday
We got off to a late start today, slept in a bit, and then headed out to have breakfast with the Bishop and his family. Bishop was outside, so we spent some time walking around the compound, examining the various vehicles and looking at future plans for land owned by the Diocese.
Breakfast was different this morning – chapatti and omelettes were served along with our porridge and tea. Both were delicious. Bishop told us the terrifying story of his abduction by the LRA (if you’re interested, the story might eventually get up at www.kitgum.org), and then he moved on to tell us the story of how he met his wife, Margaret. A Ugandan and a Brit arrived as he was talking, and we ended up staying for hours. Before we knew it, it was 4pm and lunch was just being served. We were kind of amazed that we had spent an entire day sitting on the same couch, listening to stories and hearing about the current state of the Diocese and the predicted signing of the peace agreement in Juba. Exciting stuff, but so much for our plans for the day.
Sometime during the afternoon, power came back on. After lunch, we rushed to the building where we had been training, hoping to catch one or two people for training. No one. I suppose you can’t expect too much on a Saturday, after all. Eventually, the Bishop came, followed by the website guy. Andy walked the Bishop through e-mail while I prepared the website guy to do final touches on the newsletter. Now he’s training the guy to set up the website. Dinner tonight will be late, our talks with the Bishop will be even later, and church in the morning starts at 7. Please pray for our sleep – it’s hot and the animals on the compound are noisy all night long.
Breakfast was different this morning – chapatti and omelettes were served along with our porridge and tea. Both were delicious. Bishop told us the terrifying story of his abduction by the LRA (if you’re interested, the story might eventually get up at www.kitgum.org), and then he moved on to tell us the story of how he met his wife, Margaret. A Ugandan and a Brit arrived as he was talking, and we ended up staying for hours. Before we knew it, it was 4pm and lunch was just being served. We were kind of amazed that we had spent an entire day sitting on the same couch, listening to stories and hearing about the current state of the Diocese and the predicted signing of the peace agreement in Juba. Exciting stuff, but so much for our plans for the day.
Sometime during the afternoon, power came back on. After lunch, we rushed to the building where we had been training, hoping to catch one or two people for training. No one. I suppose you can’t expect too much on a Saturday, after all. Eventually, the Bishop came, followed by the website guy. Andy walked the Bishop through e-mail while I prepared the website guy to do final touches on the newsletter. Now he’s training the guy to set up the website. Dinner tonight will be late, our talks with the Bishop will be even later, and church in the morning starts at 7. Please pray for our sleep – it’s hot and the animals on the compound are noisy all night long.
Friday: Multiple Lunches, Power Outage and Motorcycle Lessons
As we were discussing the design of the newsletter this afternoon, power went out. I think we were all a little relived to have a break, and Andy and I took the opportunity to take a nap. Then the Diocesan Secretary called to tell us that he was leaving for the weekend and not planning to return until after we depart. He was standing by the building that he shares with the Bishop’s chaplain as his living quarters, and so after saying goodbye, we naturally went over to meet the chaplain’s family. Apparently they were in the middle of lunch. The DS sat down. Seats and plates were brought outside for us. And then came the beans and rice. It was delicious, possibly even more so because we were eating with our hands. (Utensils haven’t so much come here.) One of the woman asked me if I knew how to cook. I said yes, but not this food. She promised to teach me tomorrow.
As we were finishing, we saw the Bishop’s wife pull up to her house. She walked over, saw that we had eaten, and asked why we had not eaten lunch at her house. We explained the situation, and then went back with her because we had planned to walk with her to an adult literacy program. Lunch was brought out. Andy started to say that we had already eaten, and we would just let her eat and come back. The look on her face said it all. And then she told us that it is very rude to refuse food in the Acholi culture. So we ate lunch again. Lesson learned.
Later in the afternoon, I was walking back to the computer building from the latrine, when one of the staff on his boda-boda asked me if I knew how to ride. I said no. He asked if I wanted to learn. I said yes. Unfortunately we didn’t get very far because the rain started pouring down. He told me we can continue tomorrow. Really, though, I didn’t make any progress until Andy came out and started explaining things.
In light of the rain and the lack of electricity, we went back to the Guest House to rest again. As it started to get dark, we went for dinner. The Bishop’s living room was lit by a gas lamp. He had traveled to Pader (the district just south of Kitgum) for the day, and so we waited. Dinner was brought out as it became obvious that he was not going to get back at any reasonable hour. At 10pm, when it was really obvious that he would not be back soon, Andy drove his wife to town to run an errand. I stayed behind in the dark guesthouse with my little flashlight. When he came back, we turned out the flashlight and tried to go to sleep. We missed the fan.
As we were finishing, we saw the Bishop’s wife pull up to her house. She walked over, saw that we had eaten, and asked why we had not eaten lunch at her house. We explained the situation, and then went back with her because we had planned to walk with her to an adult literacy program. Lunch was brought out. Andy started to say that we had already eaten, and we would just let her eat and come back. The look on her face said it all. And then she told us that it is very rude to refuse food in the Acholi culture. So we ate lunch again. Lesson learned.
Later in the afternoon, I was walking back to the computer building from the latrine, when one of the staff on his boda-boda asked me if I knew how to ride. I said no. He asked if I wanted to learn. I said yes. Unfortunately we didn’t get very far because the rain started pouring down. He told me we can continue tomorrow. Really, though, I didn’t make any progress until Andy came out and started explaining things.
In light of the rain and the lack of electricity, we went back to the Guest House to rest again. As it started to get dark, we went for dinner. The Bishop’s living room was lit by a gas lamp. He had traveled to Pader (the district just south of Kitgum) for the day, and so we waited. Dinner was brought out as it became obvious that he was not going to get back at any reasonable hour. At 10pm, when it was really obvious that he would not be back soon, Andy drove his wife to town to run an errand. I stayed behind in the dark guesthouse with my little flashlight. When he came back, we turned out the flashlight and tried to go to sleep. We missed the fan.
Thursday: Orphans and Seed Distribution
We checked out of the Bohma and arrived at the compound to find people madly typing their articles. It was pretty awesome to see people excited about the newsletter. Most of the morning was spent helping people type and editing. It’s a good thing I like to edit.
We had been asked on Wednesday to take pictures of “the orphans.” We agreed, not totally sure of what that would entail, but sort of thinking of the really little kids that attend school on the compound. Not so much. When it came time to take the pictures, we walked across the road from the compound to a girl’s secondary school. We talked with the school’s chaplain, to find that of the 1000 girls that attend the school, 60% have been orphaned by HIV/AIDS or the war. Many of them had been abducted by the LRA and kept captive for 2-3 years. We were blown away. Definitely not in Kansas anymore. They lined the girls up and we shot pictures of 4 girls at a time. The education office for the Diocese hopes to use the pictures for many things, but probably the biggest one is to find scholarships for the neediest girls. School fees are certainly not high by our standards, but without them you can’t get past primary school.
We left the school so that we could witness a seed distribution in a nearby village. For those of you non Good Samaritans, our church raised about $20,000 for flood relief last year, and a committee here decided to use the funds for seeds. Funds were wired in February, and we were thrilled to be able to witness even just one distribution point. The village was something like 15 km outside of Kitgum, and we were excited to take the road to Sudan to get there. Aside from the ridiculous road, the drive itself was uneventful. The images we passed along the way were not.
Charles, who joined us for the drive, pointed out the remains of houses that had been burned or abandoned. Countryside which had been forest land is only now starting to grow back after it was destroyed. Satellite IDP camps are growing – people are moving closer to their homes but remain fearful to completely return to their villages. And a wooden cross marks the place where the retired Bishop’s wife was killed when she drove over a land mine.
We arrived at what seemed like a ghost of a village – surrounded by a barbed wire fence and devoid of livable housing and people. Though the school is thriving, the entire village resides in the “mother” camp 4 km up the road. The parish priest met us, and the school headmaster joined. These men were lovely people. We had beaten the seed truck, and so they gave us a tour of the village while we waited. It happened to be the burial place of the late Archbishop who was killed during the Idi Amin regime, and we paid our respects at his grave. We were informed that because the distribution team was running late, the people who were meant to receive the seeds had all gone back to the camps for dinner. When the truck arrived, the seeds were unloaded into the church, and the presentation was made. All I can say about the presentation was that we felt completely honored to be a witness. When harvest time comes, 600 families will be able to feed themselves for the first time since they were forced to flee their homes. And we had just a little bit to do with it. The joy of giving has an entirely new meaning.
We had been asked on Wednesday to take pictures of “the orphans.” We agreed, not totally sure of what that would entail, but sort of thinking of the really little kids that attend school on the compound. Not so much. When it came time to take the pictures, we walked across the road from the compound to a girl’s secondary school. We talked with the school’s chaplain, to find that of the 1000 girls that attend the school, 60% have been orphaned by HIV/AIDS or the war. Many of them had been abducted by the LRA and kept captive for 2-3 years. We were blown away. Definitely not in Kansas anymore. They lined the girls up and we shot pictures of 4 girls at a time. The education office for the Diocese hopes to use the pictures for many things, but probably the biggest one is to find scholarships for the neediest girls. School fees are certainly not high by our standards, but without them you can’t get past primary school.
We left the school so that we could witness a seed distribution in a nearby village. For those of you non Good Samaritans, our church raised about $20,000 for flood relief last year, and a committee here decided to use the funds for seeds. Funds were wired in February, and we were thrilled to be able to witness even just one distribution point. The village was something like 15 km outside of Kitgum, and we were excited to take the road to Sudan to get there. Aside from the ridiculous road, the drive itself was uneventful. The images we passed along the way were not.
Charles, who joined us for the drive, pointed out the remains of houses that had been burned or abandoned. Countryside which had been forest land is only now starting to grow back after it was destroyed. Satellite IDP camps are growing – people are moving closer to their homes but remain fearful to completely return to their villages. And a wooden cross marks the place where the retired Bishop’s wife was killed when she drove over a land mine.
We arrived at what seemed like a ghost of a village – surrounded by a barbed wire fence and devoid of livable housing and people. Though the school is thriving, the entire village resides in the “mother” camp 4 km up the road. The parish priest met us, and the school headmaster joined. These men were lovely people. We had beaten the seed truck, and so they gave us a tour of the village while we waited. It happened to be the burial place of the late Archbishop who was killed during the Idi Amin regime, and we paid our respects at his grave. We were informed that because the distribution team was running late, the people who were meant to receive the seeds had all gone back to the camps for dinner. When the truck arrived, the seeds were unloaded into the church, and the presentation was made. All I can say about the presentation was that we felt completely honored to be a witness. When harvest time comes, 600 families will be able to feed themselves for the first time since they were forced to flee their homes. And we had just a little bit to do with it. The joy of giving has an entirely new meaning.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Newsletter update
Hey everyone!
The newsletter is plugging along nicely. Carrie is the Managing Editor pro tem. She is just getting ready to use the computer so I should go!
Andy
The newsletter is plugging along nicely. Carrie is the Managing Editor pro tem. She is just getting ready to use the computer so I should go!
Andy
Newsletters?
It seems God called us to Uganda for newsletters, among other things. We spent the better part of one of our weeks in Kampala helping Sarah finish the Kampala Diocese newsletter. And now we find ourselves putting together a newsletter here in Kitgum.
The morning started normally, with Andy leading the accountants through Excel, and me doing another basic course. I was amazed at the knowledge that my pupils from yesterday had retained, and Andy was impressed with the accountants’ knowledge of Excel.
Following lunch with the Bishop and his wife, we led a class on Publisher. Certificate and poster design, and then the fun started. We showed the newsletter template, and then Andy briefly mentioned how much supporters and stakeholders would enjoy receiving a newsletter. Before we knew what was happening, the Bishop announced that we were doing one right then, and the shining faces of the staff affirmed his decision.
So. Okay. This is a good thing. Deep breath. We made a list of all of the people who needed to write articles, and then sent them off, telling them to come back with a draft tomorrow morning at 11. Tomorrow will be a lot of editing, and then we watch flood relief seed distribution. Please continue to pray – we’re down to three days and the work is piling up.
The morning started normally, with Andy leading the accountants through Excel, and me doing another basic course. I was amazed at the knowledge that my pupils from yesterday had retained, and Andy was impressed with the accountants’ knowledge of Excel.
Following lunch with the Bishop and his wife, we led a class on Publisher. Certificate and poster design, and then the fun started. We showed the newsletter template, and then Andy briefly mentioned how much supporters and stakeholders would enjoy receiving a newsletter. Before we knew what was happening, the Bishop announced that we were doing one right then, and the shining faces of the staff affirmed his decision.
So. Okay. This is a good thing. Deep breath. We made a list of all of the people who needed to write articles, and then sent them off, telling them to come back with a draft tomorrow morning at 11. Tomorrow will be a lot of editing, and then we watch flood relief seed distribution. Please continue to pray – we’re down to three days and the work is piling up.
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