Another Dolly in Paidha

Augustine, Joel, and I sat in the back row of the church and just as worship began a tiny tot slowly approached. Typically all they want is to shake my hand, which is just fine with me (even considering where these hands of often been). I got the sense that her bigger sister or pack of friends was teasing her thinking she would be too afraid to approach. Instead, this little one with her big eyes reached both arms up signaling that I should pick her up. Me and my little melted heart did just that (only to discover bare buns under that pretty red dress).

She sat quietly and examined my white skin and the relatively long blond hairs on my arms as well as my blue eyes so different from hers. A dolly was in store for this little doll. She was so pleased. As usual the first operating procedure was to check under the dress – bare buns just like hers. She played with the buttons and ribbons on this doll. Untying the ribbon she then directed me to re-tie…over and over again. She examined this doll until she began yawning, at which time she tucked the dolly in close to her and leaned into my chest. Sleepy baby.

I think the sermon that day was something about how miracles are for today and that we don’t need a pastor to ask God for them. My little miracle was sleeping contentedly on my lap. There’s something indescribable that happens for me when these girls come close. So sweet, so healing, so peaceful. After church I found this girl once more wrapped with fabric and carrying her doll on her back, just like the mommas do. She’s starting early in getting practice to care for her own babies. Thank you Jesus for my momma and for these moments of tenderness I so often need.

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Jane's Demons

Augustine inquired of Simon about a woman who was recently saved and then became demon possessed. Her family demanded she take a goat to a witch doctor to be cured…so she did. Women in villages are not as empowered to do their own will as they ought to be. Augustine and Simon determined to visit her soon and not to write her off because of having lost faith. Just then Jane arrived.

Jane said that she was demon possessed and that her family cursed her and told her to take a goat to the witch doctor to be cured. Jane was NOT the women Augustine was just inquiring about…but how funny that she should appear just then. She came to us for prayer and proceeded to describe her horrible visions or imaginings. She said it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference between what really happened and what she feared would happen.

Jane described her family as rejecting her and her fear of going home again. She said her husband and neighbors were troubling her as well and that she overheard them saying that someone should just chop her up with a panga (like a machete). We’ll never know if this was in Jane’s imagination or not, but she was absolutely afraid.

The three of us prayed for Jane. We demanded that the enemy leave her and that the spirit of fear would depart in Jesus’ name. We prayed for a sound mind and for strength and courage to call on Jesus when she felt the enemy interfering with her mind. The prayer time went on for several minutes and then the guys were preparing to send her home. But wait, I had this sense that we were sending her back to a place that may be causing the problems in the first place. I wasn’t talking about the people as much as the spirits dwelling in her home.

Once again we prayed for Jane. We prayed that the enemy would leave her home in Jesus’ name and that the home would be holy and safe and free from disturbance. At this Jane burst into tears – an unusual display of emotion for African women. Both Augustine and Simon escorted Jane home and prayed for her there as well. At least for tonight, Jane would be safe. We’ll visit with her again the next day and purify that house once more. In the name of Jesus let it be so!

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Two Dollies in Paidha

I caught a glimpse of a very unhappy toddler who was forcibly having her teeth brushed and face washed. I knew just the solution. I slowly approached with a dolly believing this would make things all better. Ha. When she saw me she screamed even louder. I think the scream was more like a high pitched squeal. Well, at least she wasn’t crying because of having her teeth brushed anymore.

During the evening, while waiting for supper and serving as the freak show at which all children were content to simply stare upon, another young girl would have nothing of getting closer to me. Her sister and the rest of the children teased by bringing her closer only to hear her scream louder. They kept on, over and over again. This pour tortured child.

I reached out to shake the hands of the many children around me and this young one saw they were none the worse for the wear. Eventually she reached her hand out to me as well. I held it softly for a short time and then she got afraid. I saw her examining the front and back of her hand as her sister took her away. She returned several times to touch the mondu (mzungu in the local Arua language). Through a long series of brief encounters and experiments on her part, she eventually ended up on my lap. She only stayed for a few seconds at first, but the duration extended the more she experimented.

I had just the prize to reward her courage. Augustine ran in to get a dolly and the camera. She and the rest of the crowd examined the two-faced doll. Sleepy baby and awake baby – the concept was interesting to the older children. At first the small girl wasn’t sure she wanted the doll. She held it away from her, perhaps to see if anything bad would happen. Eventually she ended up in my lap again at which time I tucked the dolly in close to her and squeezed her and that doll in a tight hug.

Quickly returning to her place on her sister’s back – the bear hug did it – she also applied the bear hug to her new charge. No, no other child would have the chance to examine this doll now. She was busy holding on for dear life. The next day at church the girl continued to hold this dolly so tight and no adult could pry it away from her for a proper examination. She peeked at me over her mother’s shoulder with great interest but was still a bit shy about touching me. That she still clung to the doll was sweet.

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Women's Ministry in Paidha

The church floor was sloped so that an amphitheater-type experience enabled everyone to see the preacher well. Women trickled into the building on Africa time. Three times as many filled the church shortly after we began. Praise and worship rang through the tiny town before beginning the ministry program. Women on the drums…awesome! My hope was to use the film NOOMA She as a starter to ministry but, as usual, the power failed us. The content of the accompanying study guide allowed for the ministry to continue.



Amen is the women who housed and fed me
while in Paidha. I love her Coca-Cola dress!



The film uses the imagery of an African mother fetching water from a far away source for her children every day and likens that work to the maternal impulse to care for her family. God is described as having created that impulse in his own image. He was described as compassionate and as representing a number of other somewhat female or motherly characteristics. We talked about how we tend to view God as a man, but learned that God is spirit and that God transcends or perhaps includes both male and female qualities. This realization led to the discussion that women are not “second-best” and that without her voice in the conversation something is lacking.

Women in Africa often have a sense of being less than valuable, perhaps because of an ingrained cultural history. Yet I see women working hard…I mean hard. They wake early and fetch water, dig in the garden, prepare meals, do laundry, and more every day of the week. Their hands and feet are rough and calloused from the hard work and I’m convinced the short lifespan in Uganda (54) is due at least in part to the hard work and the fact that these women have simply worn themselves out. Having been created by God in his image, we changed our paradigm so that we could see ourselves as valuable and worthwhile creations.

Following the time of ministry, Augustine pointed out that this is the first time a woman has ministered to the women in this town and that the women don’t tend to receive ministry…at all, let alone ministry tailored just for them. I am so thankful for the opportunity to meet with, worship with, and pray for these ladies. God is so good.

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The Lord is My Shepherd

While waiting for dinner, typically very delicious meals prepared by Amen, the lady in whose house I stayed in Paidha, the original 20 children plus a few extras gathered around to stare at this freak show again. Not long after, the children began demanding… “sing.” Once again, we went through the songs until I pulled Augustine in to sing a new song with me. He quickly learned the song from Psalm 23 and we sang it in rounds.

The Lord is my shepherd I’ll walk with him always

He leads by still waters I’ll walk with him always

Always, always, I’ll walk with him always

Always, always, I’ll walk with him always

We got pretty good at it and stopped. Then we heard this faint whispering of the song coming from two older girls who had been listening intently. Augustine and I each took a girl and began singing the song in rounds again. Two and two. The other children listened as we all sang. These girls were quite good. Mothers watched on too but they were not interested in learning the song.

Keep your eyes on the girl in the red shirt in the far left of the photo.
You'll see her again soon.

After we let these girls rest their voices, I taught the hand slapping game to one of the girls using Miss Suzie Had A Steamboat. Okay, after I went through the first time I realized this might not be exactly the song to teach. Luckily the song was long and complex so there’s no chance they’ll remember. However, they might find a way to use the hand slapping part to some of the songs they already know.

Again, a whisper of the Psalm 23 song came from behind me. It was Augustine, the song was stuck in his head. What a blessing music can be.

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Children's Worship

The number of children following me around Paidha multiplies. Where I stay, about 20 children rough and tumbled around me. When I sat under the shade tree, they came closer and eventually I shook the hands of each one, some two or three times. Not wanting to waste the opportunity but also wondering about the language barrier, I began to sing songs that had motions that went with the words.

If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.

If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.

If you’re happy and you know it then your life will surely show it,

If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.

We added stomp your feet, say “amen,” and do all three. We also sang Head and Shoulders, Knees, and Toes and ended with “clap your hands and praise him.” Let’s see…we sang the Praise Ye the Lord song and we sang Jesus Loves Me…the children knew the chorus. After singing each song a dozen times the children just stood there and stared at me. Apparently I am entertainment enough just to look at.

While waiting for the women’s ministry to begin, about 100 children appeared and those who participated in singing this morning kept saying “sing.” So, sing we did. We went through the list of songs twice before I was called to begin ministry to the women. The mothers watched on and laughed to see the children being so engaged.

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Market Day in Paidha

Joel snuck up behind me as I was singing with the children. What a wonderful surprise. He and Augustine are nearly inseparable but this is the first time I’ve seen Joel in Paidha and it’s been at least two months since seeing him at all. After some time of catching up – particularly because Joel has found a woman he wishes to marry and I needed to hear the details – we set out to begin our program for the day.



Heading into the crowded market was a bit unnerving after having my wallet snatched in Kampala. Wall to wall women sat patiently on the ground with their matoke bananas and avocados. They waited for the truck drivers to pick their goods for purchase so they could be shipped into Kampala markets and made ready for sale.

Augustine and Innocent, a native Paidhan ministry helper, are not used to caring for mzungu in the same way Gabriel and Henry are, but I’d learned a few things from those two wise men. I asked Augustine and Innocent to sandwich me. Augustine led the way and Innocent followed behind me. They may not have been as alert as would have been helpful, but they at least deterred possible evildoers.



Deeper into the market, we passed through the stalls of meat. Raw meat hanging by rusty hooks or laying on dirty benches…the thought of vomiting entered my mind a few times. I am happy to avoid thinking of such things when enjoying the roasted meat served at meals.

After nearly being plowed over by a fast moving guy hauling some giant and heavy sack of something round, we examined the African pancake. They looked tempting and, well, I had to try one. Beyond nasty isn’t quite kind enough. A quick greeting to a pastor also working as a tailor, and we went on our way to visit the place Augustine, Joel, and Innocent call home.

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Arriving in Paidha

Mine was the second door from the left.

The seven hour ride to Paidha was uneventful. The roads were good, the driving speed was fast, the bus clean, comfortable, and half full…nothing like the ride to Karamoja. The conductor’s departing prayers and general kindness made the trip enjoyable, although I could have done without the very bad kung fu movie with Luganda voice-overs.

My tidy and comfortable room.

Augustine and I talked the whole time. We hadn’t seen one another for some time and we had much to catch up on. We arrived just before dark and Augustine dragged that heavy suitcase through the rocky paths toward the home where I would stay for the next three nights. There we were warmly welcomed by a Christian family who spoke neither English or Luganda. The ladies took my bags and ushered us to a living room where we chatted with Simon, an English-speaking ministry partner native to Paidha.

The open blue door was my pit
and the far right door was my bucket washroom.

Hot water was prepared for my bucket wash. When I opened the door to the stall after my bucket wash I found about 20 children waiting for me. I’m not exactly sure how much of a show they got given the cracks in the door between the boards. Hopefully they weren’t blinded. Rice and beef stew were waiting upon my return to the living room…yum (seriously, it was delicious). Augustine, Simon, and I talked some more; I didn’t realize how much I miss chatting with friends all night long.

The guys retired to their home leaving me with this family all by myself. I could have been tempted to feel scared, but I resisted that thought immediately upon sliding the giant bolt to the heavy metal door into place. The two room apartment was pitch black. No mosquitoes in Paidha (can you say “happy Leslie”), the temperatures were very cool for sleeping, and the internet works. Good night.

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A Man Got the Tar Beaten Out of Him

Augustine sent me ahead to get on the bus. While he waited patiently to get my bag loaded a tussle ensued outside my window, about 20 feet from my seat. A man was bloody in the face and mouth and sank to the ground where other men proceeded to kick and stomp on him. I prayed. The man rose up again with his blood stained face and the argument resumed.

Given that my wallet was just stolen and that I was feeling very unsafe, I wished like crazy that Augustine would hurry up and get on the bus and come sit next to me. When he finally did embark, he said he thought the guy getting beaten was a petty thief…the kind who probably stole my wallet. He said that when people like that get caught the crowd is very unkind to them. Why, then, did no one say anything when someone picked my wallet?

I wondered if this guy had my wallet too. A surge of revenge caught in my throat but died away quickly. Today I feel that social justice can be a good thing. I’ll repent later. I spent a short time on the bus next to Augustine feeling very unsettled. Smunched car, stolen wallet, a beating. Wait, was the enemy trying to keep me from ministering in Paidha? Was he trying to get me to be afraid of life in Uganda so that I would just give up and go home? Oh buddy…apparently he doesn’t know me very well. Tell me I can’t do something and watch the ferocity and determination rise up!

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Stolen Wallet

“I’m waiting for you outside ShopRite next to GapCo,” I told Augustine as he made his way to find me. I first met Augustine when he and Gabriel took me for a long training walk as I prepared for The 3-Day 60 mile Susan G. Komen walk. I last saw this friend at Lauren and Andy’s wedding and seeing his smiling face through the crowd was a joy.

He took the burden of dragging my suitcase, laden with gifts for the people of Paidha, through the dirty, rocky roads of Kampala while I shouldered my backpack. I make it a practice to zip the pack closed leaving the pulls on the lower side of the pack so that it’s more difficult to unzip. However, I’d not transferred my wallet, phone, and keys from the small pocket on the outside to the inside of the pack.

We hiked the streets toward the bus station. I followed Augustine closely…although I knew where I was and generally where I was headed. As we rounded the corner near the station, the crowed thickened (if that is even possible in an already jammed city) and I felt a small tussle on my pack. I attributed the tussle to the crowd but must admit the thought of thievery crossed my mind. Less than 30 seconds later we stepped into the bus office and I dropped my pack to the floor to get out the money for my bus ticket. My wallet was gone. It’s contents:

2 pictures of Rick and Tom with Micah and Lucah when they were babies

Nail file

List of phone numbers (sorry)

4 passport photos

My motorcycle permit

My cosmetology license

A few other papers I may not recall

150,000 UGX

$100.00 USD

Some odd KES

A phone card

My driver’s license

My Barclays ATM card

My personal Chase ATM card

My business Chase ATM card

Things NOT in my wallet:

My passport

My flash drive

My international driver’s license 

Would I still be able to go to Paidha without money? Augustine, such a sweet man, got on the phone with Lobu while I hauled out my computer and stuck the portable modem in the USB slot. Logging into Chase to get the instructions for cancelling my card, I found that a phone call was required. Praise the Lord twice – I still had my computer and I still had my phone. I got the message through, from what I could understand on this cross Atlantic call, and sent an email to my mom asking that she double check. Praise the Lord again for a really smart, really helpful momma.

Augustine was so sensitive to how I was feeling and asked if I wanted to go home or if I still wanted to go to Paidha. Press on (although I think I said something more like I can’t go if I don’t have any cash). Lobu wired money via MTN from Namulanda to Kampala (or wherever we wanted) for Augustine to pick up on my behalf. Praise the Lord again for the simplicity of getting money to Kampala and for Gabriel even having any money to send me and for so willingly sacrificing it for me. Ronnie called to check on my little broken heart too.

By now all the fixes were in place and the adrenaline shock was wearing off. Something akin to feeling stupid (which, for those of you who know me well, know this was the strongest of the variety of emotions), insecurity, vulnerability, and fear began to settle in. Augustine, in his infinite wisdom asked if he could pray for me. His soft sweet prayers were exactly what I needed. I cannot even express how blessed I am to have so many friends who love me.

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Smunched Car

A knock at the door and Ronnie says, “Gabriel has been knocked, can you come now?” Flashbacks. I grab my bag leaving my phone behind and run out the door with my head swirling. I finally have the presence of mind to ask if Gabriel is okay. Ronnie thinks he is okay as he leads me on foot to the boda stand at the top of my hill on the main road (Entebbe Road).

A boda takes the two of us to the Kawuku police station where I see a plethora of what we could call totaled cars. This is Uganda where nothing works the same way so I say a quick prayer that none of the bodies are inside. They’re not. I look around for my car or something that used to resemble my car and find in a far away spot Gabriel and Eddie in conversation with a taxi driver. Relief washes over me.

I didn’t understand the whole story of what happened but the back driver’s quarter was demolished. The guard on the taxi was pushed in and the front body was crushed in a few places. No one was hurt. Then Frank showed up. I started feeling sorry for the taxi driver. Lobu had Eddie, Ronnie, Me, and Frank with him now and the Taxi driver was all alone. Frank knew lots of the officers and began chatting with them all, which lightened the mood considerably.

From what I understand there were two options. Take Gabriel to court or to come to some agreement outside court. Frank’s relationship with so many officers swayed the taxi driver, it seems. I put Frank’s number in my phone. They finally reached some agreement and no one needs to go to court.

Gabriel and I have had an ongoing debate about the value of insurance. He sees no value. Today he asked, “What are you thinking?” as I watched on fearing the inevitable day when I would be the one who smunches the car. My reply was simple, “insurance.” He grinned. Insurance options are minimal here. Insurance agents are corrupt so that deters people from carrying anything more than the minimum required (which is akin to our registration).

Fixing the car will take two days and considerably less money by U.S. standards – a byproduct of not having insurance companies drive prices up. Still, the sacrifice to pay for repairs is considerable. Sigh.

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Tithing

The women of Konoweka were enthralled with the teaching about tithing. We first examined Scripture to learn that God created everything (Genesis 1:1; John 1:1-2; Job 41:11; and Psalm 50:9-12) and likened that with making bread or a cake. We thought about the idea that the grain of flour has no more ownership over the other elements in the cake as we do over the material things we own.

To understand why the tithe was instituted we studied the Old Testament (Genesis 4:1-26; Exodus 25:1-2; Exodus 30:11-12; Leviticus 1-7). We even looked at where the idea of 10% came from as many of the women were stuck on this element (Genesis 14:20; Genesis 28:22; Deuteronomy 14:22-23). Moving into the New Testament we examined the place of the heart (Matthew 6:1-4; Luke 21:1-4; 2 Corinthians 8:1-5; 2 Corinthians 8:12).

After looking at these Scriptures and finding themes, I asked the question about what differences they saw or what changes they saw in the way tithing was viewed. Galatians 3:24 says, “So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith.” Such freedom we’re given.

This wasn’t the end of our studies, though. We looked at God’s promises as a result of our faithfulness (Exodus 19:5; Deuteronomy 14:28-29; Malachi 3:10; Proverbs 3:9-10; Luke 6:38; Luke 18:10-14; 2 Corinthians 9:6-7; Philippians 4:19). To be God’s treasured possession, to have barns filled, to reap bountifully…what wonderful promises.

Money issues are prevalent here, just as they are in the U.S. Mistrust as a result makes people question church leaders and how they manage the money that comes into that place of worship. We finished our teaching with a discussion about the ways their tithes are used in the church (Deuteronomy 26:12; Acts 4:34-35; 1 Corinthians 9:13-14; 1 Timothy 5:17-18). Using that money to help the weak is thematic in Scriptures and I worried that these ladies would see themselves as deserving of the tithe money the church collects.

I challenged the ladies with this question – Who are you in this picture? Are you the weak? Are you the one the church should be giving money to? We explored their position in Christ as well as their many gifts and talents to reveal that they are not weak but that they are strong in Christ. They help one another in their time of need and they rely on God to provide strength and wisdom but that they are NOT weak. A resounding cry of agreement was shouted out at the end of this exhortation.

In the end, we agreed that the Holy Spirit is our guide for giving, not the Law. We answered a number of questions about the technical aspects of tithing with the same answer – the Holy Spirit will guide you – and this is not a pass to avoid giving. We talked a bit about how to recognize the voice of the Spirit and prayed about being obedient. Please agree with me in prayer that these ladies would see themselves as something other than “the most needy” and that God would fulfill his promises to bless them for their faithfulness.

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A Dolly on Bubembe Island

While visiting Bubembe Island in January, one of the 84 Ssese Islands, Vickie and I registered 10 children for the VKids Trust Uganda child sponsorship program. One of those children was a young girl who was caught by surprise and began whaling when she saw me. A dolly ought to have made it all better. After some reassurances from her momma, this girl quieted but she was not to be willingly nearby me.

As we prepare to return to the island next week and spend more time with these children playing with and encouraging them, this girl kept coming to mind. I hadn’t originally posted about her and this dolly and I’m not sure why. However, these dolls have become a small but important part of my ministry on behalf of my mother and I wanted to be sure to include her.

When I finally found the photo, I found the name…Patience Kisakye. Sometimes it’s just creepy how God brings these things to our minds. Why did I hunger after this girl and her story? How funny that her names include Kisakye.

Bringing gifts to bless those we minister to, yet not to create a dependence, is valuable in establishing and maintaining open relationships. If you would like to be part of developing these ministry avenues, click on a link below to find out more.

Business Opportunity #1: VKids Trust Uganda

Business Opportunity #2: Ssese Island Honey

Business Opportunity #3: The Three Jajjas

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Stuck Truck

Sewer systems to manage rainwater are absent in Uganda. In their place are deep trenches, however unhelpful they are, alongside only some of the roads. Occasionally, given the propensity to drive four or five cars wide on a two-lane road, we’ll come across a truck or car tipped sideways with both tires inside that trench. Unfortunately we’re not always able to get a photos of that mishap because traffic pushes us along. This time, though, we came across a taxi hoping to navigate his way off Entebbe Road…with not-so-good results. Take a look.

This guy was trying to single-handedly return all four tires to the pavement.

Adding a second guy, well...I'm not sure what the results were.

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TTATCC Way Forward

Well organized is not an adjective used often to describe small businesses or ministries in Africa. Yet The Teachers Association to Cater to Children was exactly that. Alone was meticulous in detailing the Association’s mission and objectives, past successes, and future plans. While there is always room for improvement, I was impressed with his articulation of these plans.

Yet given that the association is so well organized, what could I possibly offer to help them? After a sweet prayer time followed by introductions that included education, experience, roles, and a tour, we gathered once more and I asked the million dollar question, “What is the way forward?” In other words, knowing that I was not bringing funding, how did they see our relationship developing (if at all)?

As usual, God had his plans. The members, other than Alone, had very little education but they some really great skills and ideas. They asked for honest feedback based on their current activities, business teaching along the line of entrepreneurship, and proposal development. I love that God uses each of us combined together to make a more far-reaching impact than we could ever have alone. We talked of some tentative plans, and assignment for me, and a few deadlines. Then, the members gifted me with a stalk of matoke bananas, maize, and pineapple.

I’ll share a proposal with Alone soon and he will meet with the group to refine based on their specific needs. I look forward to seeing how this relationship will develop over time and to getting to know the members on a more personal basis. Thank you, Lord, for opening doors as a result of the boldness of one man.

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Bujagali Falls and Bujagali Dam

Bujagali Falls is soon to be home of the Bujagali Dam. The newly constructed dam is supposed to meet the energy needs of the country, or at least improve them. Several groups are speaking out against the flooding of the Falls, particularly given that 95% of the population in Uganda doesn’t even have access to electricity.

http://www.internationalrivers.org/en/africa/bujagali-dam-uganda

http://www.uganda.co.ug/bujagali/

On a more personal note, a recent visit netted this sign and the realization that my comfy seat among the rocks where I could dangle my feet into the rushing waters was now flooded. Slowly, slowly the waters encroach. Within the next four months the falls will disappear. My only hope is that the four months is African time and not Mzungu time.

My first visit to Bujagali and the perfect resting place.

My most recent visit to Bujagali netted this sign.
Note that this water level is at the height
of my shoulders in the previous photo (sniffle).

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TTATCC Projects

Each community member is using his or her gifts and skills to contribute to the wellbeing of the children enrolled in school. As a result, a variety of projects speckle the beautiful landscape. Rearing goats, chickens, cows, and dogs begins with just one pregnant female. Can you imagine rearing dogs specifically for security purposes? Further, can you imagine returning to the times where you had to grow or rear all your own food?

Pineapple and matoke in perfect rows share a plot of land. Maize covers the rolling hills. The plantations are used to teach community members and children about agriculture so that they can become productive contributors. A few of those members have implemented what they learned in their own gardens and they use the expertise of TTATCC members to assist when needed.

Bricks come from the clay soil and when the proper number are made, a permanent school structure can be built for the children. Occasionally some bricks are sold so that they have food for the children, which sets back progress on the school.



Left to Right: Uncle, Father, Grandmother, Alex (in back, no relation),
Grandfather, Alone, Leslie



Three generations of family are intact in Buwenge. Some short time ago, Alone’s 96-year-old grandfather (to find a person – let alone a couple – of this age in Uganda is exceedingly rare) divided a small plot of land to his children and the eldest of those children. He then sold the rest of that land. As a result the family came together and donated the six gifted acres to the benefit of TTATCC and the children. This land is where the school and home will be built for the street children of Jinja.

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TTATCC School

Clapboard siding covers the small four “room” school in Buwenge. Makeshift seats for the children cover the ground in orderly rows. Blackboards are cracked and holey…but they work. The school and its contents are the result of the community working together to provide some meager place to gather the children for learning every day. Although class sizes are small given the small village they’re in, current grades include primary 1-4 and baby class. Five years of education that began in 2006 when TTATCC was founded. Each year a new primary level class is added.

The leaders of TTATCC hope to add children to the school who literally pick garbage from the dumpsters in Jinja. I’ve seen these children. They stand in the trash piles and pick through the content. When they find something of value, they eat it. This kind of life is what Gabriel described from his early childhood before going to Africa Foundation Home run by Kefa Sempangi. My heart goes out to them and I feel compelled to help…how could I not!

How can I accept that children of God are eating garbage? Most of us think of American garbage standards…a half-eaten hamburger, leftover rolls, that last piece of pizza. None of these luxuries exist in Uganda. Garbage is garbage here. Corn husks, the last oil from fried chapatti, a rotten egg, rice with maggots. Such may be the meal of a child whom God so dearly loves as He watches us simply pass by.

TTATCC is an organization moved to help these children. They’ve done so much to develop their little community already, but their resources are severely limited. Please pray that God would open the storehouses and shower this village with unexpected hope.

Kibirango Moses in the forefront with the primary 4 children.
Moses is a FIFA football (soccer) coach working with the children.

Primary 3

Primary 2

Primary 1

A gigantic baby class (kindergarten'ish)

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The Teachers Association to Cater to Children

The Teachers Association to Cater to Children (TTATCC) was founded by Mukaya Alone, forever known as “the man who followed me home,” in 2006 and registered as an NGO in 2007. Alone is a teacher at Kennedy Primary School in Namulanda and uses his earnings to fund projects in Buwenge, his home village. During our most recent meeting at Fishing Village (a restaurant near his school and my home), Alone presented a very well thought out and well organized plan for the organization. Honestly, I was both surprised and impressed.

Alone detailed the mission and vision, accomplishments, and future objectives. To find a small organization so well defined is unusual. Yes, room for improvement exists but they have a very solid foundation and evidence of successfully moving toward that vision.

The Association has a vision of seeing the underprivileged children of Buwenge transformed into a productive generation. Their mission is to save orphaned children without discrimination. In addition to meeting with the TTATCC Board and teachers, we visited each of the projects undertaken by the organization.

Our first stop was the guest rooms made ready for volunteer workers. Behind this storefront is a row of small dorm-like rooms designed to be used as lodging. The hope is that people will come to work in the community as with short term missions and because the community is so small and underdeveloped, having lodging available was viewed as essential. I wondered about maximizing the space perhaps as a hotel or as a home for the orphaned children. I see that lodging would be needed for volunteers, but perhaps home stays would be a suitable option given the immediate need for the children.

That this small community is so trusting God to meet their needs that they continuously step out in faith is a wonderful example for us all.

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Buwenge Township

Mukaya Alone followed this mzungu home one day, and through his dogged persistence I agreed to visit him and his Board in a small village outside Jinja. Buwenge Township is a subcounty of Jinja, the second largest city in Uganda (and home of Bujagali Falls). The township resides about 45 minutes outside Jinja (3 hours from Namulanda) to the East along some very holey dirt roads.

Brand new storefronts stood in stark contrast to the few merchants prosperous enough in their own gardens to sell a few bananas or tomatoes from a wooden shack. “The town is growing,” they said. I suppose if you count the storefronts, even though there are no stores, they could be right. Apparently wealthy investors erect the storefronts in hopes of renting to the local merchants. In this case, they’re either ahead of the game or in the wrong game all together.

Alex, a young man who just graduated from Senior 6 and is hoping to attend Mekerere University (the top rated U in Uganda) this fall, was my guide for the day. He came highly recommended by Tevin, a trusted friend in Jinja. Alex works at a small home called The Sanctuary where orphaned boys are cared for by three adult men. He is a very godly young man and I would absolutely trust him with my children. It’s so refreshing to find good orphanage leaders, let alone great ones.

Alex navigated us from Jinja to Buwenge and then to the meeting room where we were welcomed by about 15 people. Each of these people is personally invested in seeing their community thrive. A word of prayer began our long day of meeting together.

Our goal was to see how we might work together toward the same cause: developing underprivileged East Africans.

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Neighbor Samuel

Little Samuel is one of my many neighbor children. Samuel is a little different though, perhaps because he’s younger. Whenever I’m home I find him watching from my doorway. He waits patiently until I acknowledge him, although he doesn’t understand a word I say. Today I sat with Samuel out on the porch for some time. He sat some far distance away from me, but willingly scotched closer when invited.

Samuel’s raggedy clothes were gathered at the waist by a red plastic handle from a bucket, no doubt a “toy.” His little hand held tightly to a tiny unopened bag of gee-nuts (peanuts). That same hand adorned a pretty orange ring long since missing it’s lollypop jewel. Samuel ran off to collect a container from the compound, a piece of trash left behind. He filled that small container, which was about the size of a yogurt cup, with his goodies and added a small piece of tile, a leaf pulled from a vine, and a piece of cardboard. All his treasures in the world.

Nearing lunchtime I went inside the house and Samuel followed me to the doorway where he stood and waited for my return. Each time I went in he did the same thing. Each time I came out he resumed his position on the porch next to me. I cut an apple for lunch and shared those slices with Samuel. I always hesitate to share food because, like pets, the children will swarm and I didn’t have enough to feed the neighborhood. However, today Samuel and I were left alone to our apple and our shared juice box together in silence.

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Andarita Beach

Lake Victoria provides a number of beachfront opportunities with its many coves and bays. Andarita Beach is just one of those many nearby beachfronts along Entebbe Road. The far southern part of the beach was quieter and as a result the birds were content to do their fishing from there. I cannot begin to name those long- and short-legged creatures, but the colors are marvelous. We crept as close as we dared before sending them off in a swoop. Leaving them to their peace, Ronnie and I sat on a more distant bank and listened to the sound of the small waves crashing on the shoreline. So peaceful, relaxing…mesmerizing.

We strolled to the north just a bit and found that the beach area was jammed with people who were enjoying themselves on this Sunday evening. We came upon a few friends playing football (soccer) and joined them for a few kicks before moving back to the waterfront. I came prepared…sandals.

The warm waters of Lake Victoria, unclean by most standards (although what lake water is), is far too enticing to miss. I kicked off my sandals and walked along the edge with my toes in the water. Tiny rocks floated in the oncoming waves, pulsating to and from the shoreline like a heartbeat. Ronnie declined the invitation to join me, but saw what a joy this small pleasure was and indulged me for some time. With a soaking wet skirt and feet and sand up to my ankles, Ronnie and I scooped up a waterfront table from departing diners.

Back: Eddie and Ronnie
Front: Herbert and Leslie
Missing: Derek is taking the picture

Our plan was to talk about ministry work together and business development for his little internet café, and we did that until our football friends – Herbert, Derek, and Eddie – rejoined us. We really need more planning time together, but sometimes God knows what we need more than we do. I don’t think any of these friends realized just how much I needed their fellowship at this moment.

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Children's Ministry

As the children straggled in, Ronnie and I introduced ourselves and made conversation with the kids. I told one 9-year-old guy, Maxwell, that he and my son share the same name. Vivian was dressed in bright pink stripes, and I did really well remembering their names until they numbered more than ten and I was really sunk when those ten mixed themselves with the multitude that followed.

The children began filling the yard at Calvary Chapel in Namulanda at around 2:00. After having moved into the church, and before the visiting ministry leaders began, Ronnie and I played with the kids. Laura left a bat and ball during her ministry time with them and we used that ball to get the kids organized and to entice them to participate with the group. A few quick games and the echoes of excited children filled the neighborhood, which brought even more children.

Ronnie took on the task of introductions as the number of children present multiplied. He was really quite gifted at engaging each child in some special way as they said their name and their school.

Pastor’s wife observed that Maxwell wasn’t feeling well and that his mother had gone. Maxwell refused to sit out of the group as we played ball, he was having too much fun. Yet, the tears running down his cheeks indicated how bad he must have really felt. Malaria.

Four girls from the Calvary Chapel church in California presented a message about David and Goliath, and about how the power of God is with us today just like he was with David way back then. The children did well in remembering the story and were rewarded with some sweets (candy). Just before lunch (chapatti and cabbage) the Hallelujah song competition raised the sound level of the church. The song must have echoed through the hills of Namulanda.

I found myself enjoying lunch on the veranda of the church looking out over Lake Victoria in the distance. The next thing I knew, Maxwell plunked himself right up close to me with those tears still trickling down his cheeks. He was roasting (a side effect of malaria). He didn’t want to eat and he didn’t want to play the games that followed lunch. We just sat together and watched. I feel so privileged to connect with that one child who needed something just a little different than the rest.

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