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.