Only A Shadow

There is a song by Misty Edwards called “Only a Shadow” that has spoken to me a lot these past few weeks. It plays off of Ps 23:4, “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” In the song it repeats the line… “Though I walk through the valley, its only a shadow, its only a shadow.” There is something about that concept that speaks straight to my heart especially during my time here in Africa.

A shadow is dark. Kids often fear their shadows. Often times it is looming and seemingly unending, yet with years comes perspective and as kids grow into adults the shadow loses its mystery and more importantly the fear that was once associated with it. But a shadow is still dark. A shadow is still seemingly unending…but it is only a shadow. No one knows when the shadow will end and be no more,, but the promise is that it is only a shadow.

Juliana’s passing was only a shadow. It was dark. It was hard. But it was only a shadow. Now, there is light. Her aunt Diana came by after the funeral to receive some pictures of Juliana that I had printed up for her. As she waited she shared her story with me. She is 22years old. She is herself an orphan, both parents dying when she was really young. At age 16 she got pregnant and now has a 5year old boy that she is raising on her own. She is 2 years away from completing her degree but has no money and no means to get money to finish her schooling. She asked if there was any work she could do at Welcome Home…the problem is that in order for her to make enough money to get back in school it would take years. So instead, I was able to give her a business loan. I told her that she needed to do the research and find out the cost of starting a small business in her village and to come back in a week with her proposal. A week passed, and there was Diana. She had written out a detailed proposal for opening a small cosmetic/beauty kiosk. She was given 500,000USH which is about $300. She was beyond grateful and beyond excited to get started. Her first payment is due in one month. There is light. Her family will never be the same. If this business succeeds not only will she have the means to keep her son in school, but she will eventually be able to complete her degree. The money will be paid back over a year and a half and then others will be able to use the money for similar loans. None of this would of happened if Juliana had not passed away, if the family had not come to Welcome Home. So Juliana’s story continues. Her short life was only a shadow, but now there is Light and with Light comes a bit of understanding.

We have been doing a lot of work at Welcome Home lately to return some of the children to their home villages. Many of the kids’ mothers died in childbirth and the fathers weren’t able to take care of them at the present time. Now there are 6 families who are ready and willing to take their children back and raise them themselves. We have given business loans to the families so they can start generating income. It has been a roller coaster of emotions for me as I have gone on the home visits with the kids. There is something beautiful about a child going home, about the entire community coming to welcome the child. However, the American in me struggles with picturing the kids in the villages. At Welcome Home they are given 3 meals a day, they have clothes, shoes, indoor plumbing, power, immediate access to health care and a bookshelf full of books and bins full of toys…they won’t have that in the village. Most will eat only one meal a day, they will be responsible for doing their own laundry, working in the fields, gathering water…it is almost as if childhood is taken from them and for the first time they are faced with responsibility. Most will still have the opportunity to be educated in the local schools, but then what? Chances are they will remain in the village their entire lives…Yet, I go out to the villages daily and see joy and community and love unparalleled and I don’t question the kids being there that I meet. I don’t pity them or wish I could take them away from their present circumstances. Who’s to say that life in America is better than life in an African village? Obviously the quick response is, of course it is…there is hope and future and opportunity. But is it better? Are more opportunities greater than the love of an entire extended community? Is the fast-paced culture of America better than a culture that strolls rather than sprints, a culture who finds it necessary to take time out for tea and for 5 minute hello’s and goodbyes’? The more I am here, the more I don’t see America as better, but simply different. Of course I think it would be great for all to have the means to be educated, to have good healthcare, to have electricity and indoor plumbing, and yet we don’t even have that in America. Life is different here, but even life is only a shadow.

Today I gave Christine 70,000USH (approx. $40) to have transport home to her village in Northern Uganda. She has cancer and she is dying. She has a place here in Jinja but she can’t take care of herself and has no one to help her. She knows she is dying and her only request was that she wouldn’t have to die by herself. She is going home to be with her family. Her shadow is dark and looming but this pain, this disease, is only a shadow and she saw some light today as she received the money necessary to go home.

Life, death, pain, suffering…all of it is only a shadow. And while the shadow itself is a place of grief and tears, fear and uncertainty…the promise is that it is only a shadow. The darkness is not permanent and that brings incredible light to my soul as I continue to serve here in Uganda.

Life in Africa

I have been here for almost 2 months now. Everyday holds new challenges and new adventures. I am still in love with this place and with the people. One of my favorite things right now is that I can’t walk anywhere around town without running into someone that I know. It may be other volunteers, people from the church, mommies from the orphanage, or shop owners that I have come to know by name, whoever it may be, I love that I am feeling more and more apart of the community here.

I have done my best to acclimate myself. I am “enjoying” doing my laundry by hand. I usually do it 2-3x/week. I scrub it out with detergent, rinse it, and then let it soak in hot water for the evening. In the morning I wring it out and hang it on the clothesline in my room. I could easily have some of the workers do my laundry here for a small fee, but there is just something about the “African” experience and doing laundry by hand that I find to be a necessary part of my time here :o)

I am loving the Ugandan cuisine. I ate termites! Interesting. They are called white ants and they are best fried. I’m not adventurous enough to eat them when they are still alive. Some say they taste like cracker jacks…they are liars…but I am glad that I tried them. I love the fresh fish, the beans and rice, and my all time favorite is the cabbage.

I have been using public transportation more and more. They call them boda bodas and they are motorcycles (some in better shape than others). As a female it is culturally appropriate for me to sit with my legs off to the side and to hang on to the back of the small seat. The cost is usually about 1000USH, which translates to approx $0.60. It is a quick and efficient way to get around town…scary at times on the busier roads, but an adventure nonetheless. The roads in general are best avoided, not practical, but still the best option. There are no laws here when it comes to driving and the roads. If there are laws and if they are broken, the police would have to chase the offender by foot as there are VERY limited police cars available. Most of the time it is an intense game of Chicken being played out before your eyes…there are 5 cars coming at you, all drivers looking drunk since they are constantly swerving to avoid the numerous potholes, and all you are aimed with is your turn signal to indicate to them that you are coming and they need to get over. Too many near misses to count.

Many of you know my “luck” with lawn mowing. I’m hoping that my time here in Africa will forever rid me of my complaints. Here they use machetes and goats to mow their lawns…I could potentially get into the whole goat thing but unfortunately in America we have Home Associations who would probably frown on such activity.

Power has become more and more unreliable these past few weeks. We are in the middle of rainy season, which translates into many severe storms. Some places have been without power for over 3 weeks now. Fortunately my guest house uses the same line as the hospital, so we are usually only without power for a few hours at a time.

This is a fairly efficient African country…compared to America it is considerably behind, but this isn’t America. In my mind, getting to the bank, paying utility bills, eating lunch, and checking internet, equals a very successful day. The problem is that often there is no rhyme or reason to how they do things. For instance, some came into the country and received a 3 month visa without any problem. We were only given a one month and had to go to immigration to get approved for two more months. I wrote out my request and was told to come back in a half hour, it was tea time. I’m sure if I were staying here long term that the lack of rhyme or reason would potentially become frustrating, but for now I just shrug my shoulders and laugh…After all, this is Africa.

LOVE

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of love and how love is expressed. At first I saw so many differences and almost a lack of love expressed here in Uganda. This observation was aided by my new friend Ronnie. He is in his late 20s and has never heard the words “I love you” come out of his parents’ mouth. He was never hugged. Never kissed. To this day the only “love” he has experienced has come from his aunt. Pastor Timothy says that all the children of Uganda are orphans. Parents don’t know how to love and care for their children. And if the parents don’t care, then to think that someone else should care or love the child is absurd. Most of the kids at Welcome Home were found in the trash piles, or left on a bus or in the taxi park. Little Adam’s mom left him with some strangers while she went to get them food and then she never came back. She walked away forever. It’s hard to see the love in that.

YET, the more I spend time in this culture the more I hope that I am beginning to understand it. There are incredible exceptions to these observations. And the more I spend time here the more I see what love really is and how much we are all alike. Yes, there are parents who are just wrong. Parents who don’t show love and hurt their children in incredible ways. Those parents are everywhere, not just here in Uganda. Love is expressed differently here at times because the situations facing people here are different. In America, for the most part, we are able to budget and know how many kids we can take care of responsibly. In Africa, you have as many kids as you can with the thought that most will die young due to illness and the more you have the better chance you have of some making it. And if you believe that they aren’t all going to make it, is it any wonder that some struggle with showing affection to their children? It makes sense that they would want to guard themselves from getting too attached in case the child dies. The problem with this mindset is what happens when they all survive? There is no way to support all of the kids and many parents are forced to send some away. I can’t imagine making that decision. Who goes? Who stays? Who will get to go to school? Who will be forced to stay and work in the fields? Is it not more loving to make sure that your child is fed and well cared for versus leaving the child to starve and die? Such sacrifice, such humility to be able to accept that you can’t do it and to get help for the child instead of forcing the child to continue to suffer. LOVE IS NOT PROUD.

People here have a tendency to pass White people on the road and literally offer their child to them. They want a complete stranger to take their child simply because they are white. At first glance that looks ridiculous and downright criminal…yet they know that their child would have more opportunity and better chances in America than where they are now. Isn’t love wanting what is best for another person? At first glance I look at all of the abandoned babies and I get angry. Yet the people who left babies with strangers or on the bus or in a taxi knew that the babies would be found and someone would hopefully do for them what they could not. LOVE DOES NOT ENVY.

Mommy Rose has taught me about sacrificial love. She is the head Mommy at the orphanage. She has 3 children and is putting them all through school. Her husband died shortly after her third child was born. She is a widow. She is a single mom. She is supporting three kids through school. She sees her kids once a year. Transport back to her home village would cost a month and a half’s salary and she can’t afford that. Her kids are raised by her husband’s family. Mommy Rose doesn’t get to see her kids report cards are help them with homework. She doesn’t get to hear about their day or be there to hold them, laugh with them or cry with them. Yet she Loves her children dearly and is willing to sacrifice everything to make sure that they have opportunities to succeed. LOVE IS NOT SELF-SEEKING.

I work with 40 Mommies who prove that it is possible to love children that are not their own. They had to learn how to love, but they have and they do. Jaja Lucy works with the preemies. She is in her early 60s. She was severely beaten by her husband and very near death when she came to work at Welcome Home. Her past could have made her rough and bitter and yet she choose Joy and she holds and rocks those tiny babies with a smile on her face and light in her eyes. LOVE IS KIND.

The toddlers are a handful. They are 40 strong right now and each one is clamoring for someone’s attention. The toddler mommies are incredible. I especially enjoy watching Mommy Irene. She’ll get the kids on the trampoline and then come up like she is going to get them and “eat them” and she tickle them until they squeal…once you do that to one child the others quickly start shouting “Even me. Even me.” So Irene spends time “eating” all the toddlers. I was swinging one of the kids the other day and true to form the other toddlers tried to climb on my lap for their turn. Mommy Irene had them line up and over an hour later, I had swung with every toddler laughing and squealing all the while despite the severe headache and backache that I was left with ;o) LOVE IS PATIENT.

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13
I am surrounded by people here who are showing this greatest kind of love on a daily basis. Giving up their lives in order that others might get to live theirs. Uganda has its problems but there are many here who have learned how to choose Joy and how to love. And since LOVE NEVER FAILS it gives me great hope for the brothers and sisters here that I have come to know and to love. I pray that I am becoming a woman who LOVES with the GREATEST KIND OF LOVE. I am blessed to be surrounded by such incredible teachers.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is LOVE.”
1 Cor. 13:13

Juliana

Juliana died this morning.

These past few weeks she has been declining rapidly and she no longer had the strength to keep fighting. Juliana had TB and full-blown AIDS. She was born February 14, 2006 and died October 15, 2007. Her mother sold charcoal for a living before she died of malaria. Her father is absent and his whereabouts are unknown. She is survived by her Jaja (grandma), her young aunt, and two brothers.

Juliana came to Welcome Home 4 months ago. In that short amount of time she was able to win over the hearts of the workers and volunteers alike. She didn’t smile or laugh often, but when she did…she lit up the room. She loved being held, and she liked to swing sitting on someone’s lap.

I had the distinct pleasure of knowing and loving Juliana for this past month. In such a short amount of time she captured my heart. I loved how she would snuggle against my chest and fall asleep. I loved how she would watch me and study my face. I loved to swing with her and sing over her.

It’s been a difficult day to say the least. Esther (Welcome Home Administrator) and I along with one of the social workers went to notify the family this morning. There are no words for moments like that. All I could do was hold the aunt’s hand and cry right along with her. There was a meeting this afternoon to inform the mommies at the orphanage. Again, what words are there to say? I wept and grieved and mourned with the mommies.

Eventually there will be rejoicing. Eventually the mourning will turn into dancing, the sorrow will become joy, and the tears will be exchanged with kisses. Juliana knew that she was loved and cherished and that is what is most important. She is no longer struggling. There is no more pain. The season of joy will come, but now is the time for mourning. Now is the time to grieve. Now is the time to cry.

The Islands

I have made it through probation! All volunteers are put on a 3 week probation before being allowed to continue to serve out their desired time. I know many of you were worried about my not making it through…my laugh being too loud, or a host of other reasons…but as of now, it looks like I’m going to be allowed to stay in Uganda until December!

Uganda continues to impress and amaze me. This week I have experienced an array of emotions. I have been frustrated, angry, sad, broken, humbled, blessed, joy-filled, and exhausted. This entire week I have been taking an oversized rowboat to the surrounding islands. In 5 days I have visited 7 villages and 10 schools. I’ve logged over 20 hours on the boat. I’m more tan and tired as a result :o).

If anyone is having a tough day, struggling with self-esteem, or just feeling unloved, they should come to Africa. Here, if you are white, you become an instant celebrity. Everywhere around the islands you here the children shouting “Mzungu, Mzungu or White person! White person!” They come and greet you on the shore and 5 children grab onto each hand and escort you where you are going. The schools knew that we were coming and prepared for us in advance. We were seated in chairs or on benches, most times the only furniture in the entire village, and were treated as the guests of honor. The children would sing and dance and they would have an entire program prepared for us. When they finished they would have myself and others share a message and teach the children some songs. We met over one thousand children this week and saw over 300 of them come to know the Lord. I taught many of them the song “I am a Friend of God” and they go crazy dancing to it.

My favorite village was Lwanika. They have not had a white visitor for six years. We were a day late in getting there and many had waited at the designated spot for almost 2 days. The students of the school performed their traditional dances, put on skits, recited a poem, and gave Tiffany and I each a necklace they had made. After every program in every village we were treated to an Ugandan feast. They would set before us: cabbage (my personal favorite), posho (similar to grits), matoke (a mashed banana mixture), fish, chicken, beef, chippati (thick tortilla bread), greens, rice, soup, beans, pineapple, avocado, and watermelon. At the places where we made a short visit they would offer us cokes and biscuits (cookie wafers). The humbling part is that many in the village did not have enough to feed their families. There were children who saw us eating who would not have dinner that evening. The desire for justice and fairness in me cries out against this preferential treatment. Why should I feast on what little they have when I have plenty? Why should they go hungry and my belly be full simply because I have white skin? In humility however I accept and understand that this is the culture that I am a part of for the next few months. I understand more fully the scripture that says it is more blessed to give than to receive. The pride that showed on the faces of the villagers as they offered us their best was unbelievable. While I was certainly blessed, they received the greater blessing. They were able to honor their visitors and in this culture that means everything.

One of the hard realities that I had to face this week was that because I am white, I am expected to be the solution to their problems and the answer to their questions. The sick of the villages were brought to me with the expectation that I would know what was wrong and how to fix it. The problems of finances and the needs for more money were brought to my attention with the hope that I would help them out. The village of Walumbe needs money to build a school on their own land, currently they are on government owned land and can be kicked off at any time. The Island of Nakalanga has a room about the size of most American dining rooms that is supposed to fit 180 students. It is a mud building and has no light. They need money to build more classrooms. The teachers of Lwanika do not receive a consistent salary because many of their students are orphans and cannot afford the school fees needed to pay them. I was surrounded by poverty and disease this week.

I met an 11year old girl on the island of Walumbe. Both of her parents have died and she was left herself to die in the garbage heap. An elderly villager took her in and has raised her but is close to death. The girl works in gardens to pay her school fees but only has the clothes on her back and if her caregiver dies, she will have no one. She was in tears telling me her story, asking me to help her. In America, there would be no question. I have the means, so let me help. Here it is a different story. Instead of it being an individualistic culture, here the focus is on community. I can’t help one girl on the island without offering aid to the entire village. I can’t bring her clothes and ignore the other children that have only rags themselves. I can’t give her money for school and ignore the many children that haven’t spent a day in the classroom for lack of funds. On top of that, she is an orphan. It could be very bad for her amongst the other villagers if she received preferential treatment. She has no rights to anything and it could easily be taken from her.

But, because I am white I am expected to fix it and make it better. In reality it would take about $100 to have this girl set for a few years and about $3-$5000 to get these villages on the right path, and to get them independent and self-supportive. It is such a small amount considering the blessings that I come from in America. But the need is great and it is everywhere. It is the one unifying factor of all the islands and of Africa as a whole. It is easy to become overwhelmed here and to feel as though you aren’t making a difference whatsoever. Yet, I know that for now I can freely give what I have. I can smile, I can listen, I can sing and dance, I can laugh, I can let them know that they are not forgotten, and I can pray. For now, that is going to have to do.

Pastor Timothy is the man who arranged all of our visits. He has been doing ministry on the islands for a few years now. His story is incredible. In 1995 he was elected as a chairman of pastors for 15 villages. At the same time he was beginning a family and was struggling with how to support them since he received no salary for being a pastor. He decided that he would stop being a pastor and instead serve as an officer in the government, whose job it was to pilot boats on the water and stop the smuggling that was happening between Uganda and Kenya. In Dec. of 1995 he was on the boat with 4 other officers when another boat approached and became threatened. They opened fire killing all the men on Timothy’s boat but sparing Timothy’s life. It was then that he realized that he was running from the Lord and he recommitted his life. He went to the police and reported what had happened and they charged him with murder of the 4 men! He was then sentenced to 1.5years before he would be able to appeal. He began witnessing to the other prisoners and asked for Bibles from any of his visitors. On day #28 he was miraculously released from jail and began his life as a traveling pastor. He is a very big man for a Ugandan and has a beautiful smile and a gentle spirit. It has been a great week getting to know him. He has given me a Ugandan name, which he introduces me by. I am called Mirembe, which means peace.

I have an update on my precious Juliana. She has taken a turn for the worse and was sent to the hospital in Kampala, 2 hours away. It is believed that she now has full blown AIDS. When she gets “better” she will most likely be transferred to AIDSCHILD, which specializes in children with her condition. My heart is aching for Juliana. I didn’t get to see her before she left for Kampala and I’m worried about her. She has no life in her eyes and I’m not sure if she has any fight left in her. I am praying that she does. It is crazy how quickly she has broken my heart and brought tears to my eyes.

It has been a long full week of ministry, but incredibly refreshing at the same time. It was incredible to see impromptu church services take place simply because someone came out of their hut with a drum and started singing. It was great to be reminded of the simplicity of the Good News and to see people hungry to receive it. It was incredible to worship in dust filled rooms without any light or sound systems and still meet Jesus there. It was fun to go with the flow instead of following a time chart and it was great to laugh at the fact that many here don’t even understand the concept of a smooth transition and yet seem comfortable with the awkward silences and the people up front talking trying to figure out what to do next. Don’t misunderstand me. I believe there is a place for all of it. I have just been encouraged and refreshed by this culture and have enjoyed the simplicity that exists here. While the days have been long and exhausting, I am beginning to feel my heart and my mind slow down. I am beginning to experience first hand a new and deeper meaning of my new name…Peace.