Rachel & Chrystina's Jinja Adventure

I just loved the warp on this taxi.

Crossing the Owen Falls Dam

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Sole Hope

Sole Hope is a group of passionate, committed people who are putting closed toed shoes on African children, one pair at a time. Jiggers are a very serious problem in Africa and in a place where so many children don’t have shoes, even more serious. Check out their website to learn more about this organization.

We had the blessing of sleeping in their guest house and learning a bit more about what they do.

I received a box of dollies and was acquainting them
to Uganda while lounging in a wheelbarrow.

Looks like she's wearing a pillow case dress.
Anyone have the desire to make such dresses for some of my kiddos?

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Rachel & Chrystina's Nile Adventure

Apparently we are "The Rest of the World"

A kiss for Gandhi

A view of the actual source, where Lake Victoria enters the Nile River

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Abba Father

Full taxis whizzed past us for quite a long time before we finally found one to take us the short distance to Mpumudde. I was eager to avoid boda bodas on the highway, but should have probably been less eager to avoid the taxi park. Anticipative, smiling faces awaited our arrival and they showed off their new gathering hall. Six women gather together twice weekly to worship, pray, and work on developing their handcraft skills as a way to gradually cease working on the streets of Jinja.

The group has yet to acquire a name for themselves and so, Abba Father, is the one I tend to use when referring to them. Many thanks go out to a loving lady in the UK who makes it possible for them to fellowship with one another in this safe place, and to Andrew for sharing this ministry on the ground with us.

Chrystina and Rachel taught about Queen Esther and that God crated her for a purpose just like he created these ladies for a purpose. Most of our time, though, was spent in prayer for healing over their various ailments. We invited them to join us and while none led prayer, they were most certainly active with us.

Praising God for the gradual growth and development of this group and for the love and care of so many as we continue praying over them.

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Lucky to be with the Luckeys

The plane landed on time and delivered two of three passengers successfully…um, how does passenger number three get separated from the group and end up on another flight? I was so blessed to have the opportunity to serve another missionary family here in Uganda by picking up their guests at the airport and delivering them safely to the motel. Planes arrive late and the Luckey’s live very far away and so my job was to help make everyone comfortable. After collecting Cindy from the airport the next morning, everyone was safely off to Jinja.

Later that week I stayed with the Luckey’s – they so often bless me with the opportunity to lodge with them (and eat with them) when I’m working in Jinja – and had the chance to get to know the three newbies all the more. My goodness there are some truly lovely people in the world. Cindy blessed me…uhem…us with a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls before they all set off for Naigobya. My oh my!

A conflicting appointment for the Luckeys again afforded me one more opportunity to spend the day with the visitors in Kampala. We did some shopping at National Theater, walked through Nakasero Market where Thomas my boda man gave them a tour and a taste of almost every odd thing there, and then down to a lookout of the giant taxi park. By the time we were finished we were hot, burnt, and ready to go. Saying goodbye to Thomas we said hello to Godfrey again who took us to the same hotel we stayed the first night. A bit of freshening up and off to Faze 3 – a delicious upscale’ish restaurant on Lake Victoria near the airport.

I am so blessed to have had the chance to get to know these people, to serve the Luckeys in a useful way, and to play a small part in enlarging our understanding of God’s great big world.

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Nile Vocational Institute

The sound of dishes clanking and metal chairs shuffling filled the dining hall at The Nile Vocational Institute – a school founded many years ago by German Christians. As Pastor Fred and I arrived, we were ushered into that faculty dining hall for tea while the leaders prepared for the workshop. Standard practice for most places of business in Uganda is to provide tea, which is likely the first meal the faculty and staff will have for the day. Tea typically consists of…tea (and bread).

The Nile Vocational Institute is a boarding and day school in Jinja where students who wish to master a trade come to learn. As in America, these students could have performed poorly in primary or secondary school and still wish to have some way to provide for themselves. They could also be students who are interested in a particular course of study regardless of their scores. Hairdressing, mechanics, brick laying, and carpentry are just a few of the many trades taught here.

Pastor Fred’s sister is a teacher here and together they arranged for me to teach a short workshop to those students who will soon be exiting the school. As is not uncommon, communication failed to reach me about the desired length and content of the workshop. I’d prepared The Art and Science of Thinking for these students. Initially the administrator expressed a bit of disappointment but after the workshop was finished she was very excited about how practical and necessary creative and critical thinking skills are in the lives of every individual, particularly those just starting off on their own. She was so excited that she arranged an impromptu workshop immediately following lunchtime for those students whose schedules allowed them to return.

I’ve been invited to return and to bring the very same content again. After suggesting it might be wise to offer the workshop to faculty so that they can teach the principles in their own classes and then reinforce them with practical application, the administrator wholeheartedly agreed. I love seeing how Jesus takes something that got a little rumpled (time and content) and turns it into something wonderful for everyone.

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Kalagala Falls

Forty-five minutes on the back of his dirt bike, one way, he warned me that it might not be easy. I had to be a tough girl though. He was right. Not much cushion on those seats. Oouwie. The goat we hit on the way home wasn’t too happy either, though the bike just kept right on going. I was envisioning the flesh scrape off my body, given my knowingly inappropriate attire for this ride, though Alex maintained perfect control. Post trip sunburn is another story. It was cloudy all day, how could I possibly be fried?

This afternoon trip was something we’d wanted to enjoy for some time given the flooding of Bujagali Falls and we finally found the time. There’s just something about the sound of rushing water that is so mesmerizing and stress relieving. We talked about the huge business opportunity at this easily accessible falls and dreamed of the way the place would look when we were finished spending someone else’s money.

I’m so thankful for Alex and all that he does to help Surprised by Hope and for me.

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Maga Tailoring School

Paper clothing of various shapes, sizes, and designs lined the walls of this small but adequate tailoring classroom. Ten sewing machines older than the hills steadily produced neat little stitches. Ten ladies at various stages of learning sat diligently working at their workstations; some cutting fabric, some sewing papers, some drawing.

Maga Tailoring School was opened about a dozen years ago and was said to flourish under its original owner. As is not uncommon, the school struggles a bit more now that the woman with a passion for this business has passed away. While others may indeed love their work in developing this business, there’s nothing like the dedication of the founder to thrive any organization.

Initially the students were a bit resistant to the idea that they were going to learn anything about business, after all…they’d paid to learn about tailoring. We began by talking about developing a business concept that does two things: meets a customer need (or two), and somehow distinguishes their product and service from all the other tailors. Keep in mind that all these ladies can see in front of them is learning a skill to earn money for their family. Thinking beyond this basic need is quite foreign. We talked about what might have happened if God would have simply plunked a few random things he created down somewhere in the universe, what if he hadn’t had a bigger plan in mind. The ladies started to see the purpose of planning a bit more clearly.

By the time the teaching was finished, the ladies and the director were full of questions, ideas, and suggestions. I challenged them to continue thinking about their business concept all the while they learn tailoring and promised to return if they wanted to know more. I simply love watching the doors open and the blinders come off. Thank you, Jesus.

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Sunday Morning in Jinja Town

This normally bustling tourist town sits quietly on Sunday morning, not ready to wake until past 8:30. Criss-cross iron gates cover the storefronts of most businesses. I’d hoped for a bite of breakfast before finding the taxi to Buwenge, but even Flavours was just barely peeking out through closed doors. The staff recognized me and put chairs out, they even turned on the internet for me. Approaching the 8:30 wake-up time, I was granted access to a…get this…peanut butter Snickers muffin. Yep, all my favorites wrapped into one teeny tiny little bite of a muffin hardly noticeable on its plate. The knife and fork were entirely unnecessary given the single mouthful of food, yet using the utensils helped extend the pleasure just a bit. This unsuspecting (and way WAY overpriced) muffin was fantastic! Hmm, there must be a way I can replicate this muffin on the gas burner…

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Carpenter John Arrested!

Just beyond the railroad tracks leading into Jinja town was a boda-boda sting. Traffic police stopped each and every boda driver not wearing a helmet. Passengers walked, bodas were loaded into big trucks, and drivers stood waiting for instructions…Carpenter John among them. The capture of all these boda drivers was under the guise of identifying stolen bodas. It’s true, boda-boda drivers are stabbed or hit with iron bars at night and their bodas stolen. Yet only those without helmets were stopped in this particular crackdown. Carpenter John later reported—after his long walk to town to meet the various conditions of his boda’s release—that he was required to have his helmet, third party insurance, and the log book registering his name to the bike. His day, and that of all the other boda-boda drivers who pay 20,000 UGX daily to rent their bodas, was a loss.

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Bare-footed Boys

Five bare-footed boys sat on the sunny stoop of the take-away restaurant owned by Alex’s brother. A sixth boy exited with the butt slice of a loaf of bread and divided that slice among the others. Each boy must have had less than a mouthful. Another boy emerged from the shop, and another, until eleven boys positioned themselves outside waiting for their bite. Upon discovering my presence, they filled my car window where I was waiting for Alex to arrive.

Joining the boys on the street I asked them how they got that slice of bread, how they kept their hair short, and how the vendors felt about them being around their business. Begging and mopping were the most common answers to how they received anything. Derek, the boy in the center with the white shirt, asked if he could come with Alex and me that day. Alex told me that Derek is not actually an orphan. His father took many wives and those new wives used witchcraft to expel his mother because of jealousy. Derek decided it was better on the street than in that home.

I started wondering why you don’t see groups of girls on the street in the same way you see boys. I decided to pray for these girls instead of think about the possible reasons.

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Driveover or Rollover

Big semi tractors sway from side to side as they inch down the improvised road of soft-earthed bean fields. Hope reigns as tractors passing in opposite directions wobble in opposite directions thus potentially smunching one another from the top. Vehicles heading in both directions vie for right of way on the narrow strip of earth now destroyed by hundreds of trucks and cars. I fret over this loss of food and income for some family.

By the skin of my teeth the semi truck hauling petrol eeked past my car. Breaks screeching, the sound of air being poofed out as they do. One centimeter forward for me, one centimeter forward for the truck. I finally come upon a cassava tree and can go no further until the taxi driver behind me gets mad and yanks out that tree. Apparently he didn’t have the nerves of steel that I did to get his bigger taxi past that same dangerous truck. Back and forth goes the exchange of space until we’re free from potential doom. Each vehicle in its turn repeating the same exercise in a long line of vehicles (mostly semi trucks) headed in both directions.

The drive toward Iganga where Dennis leads Shelemiah Orphan Care Ministries netted two semi trucks rolled off the edge of the roadway. On the return trip, we reached the second rollover just in time for the crane to reach the same spot and stop traffic in an effort to right the rolled tractor. We, and so many others, turned around and entered an off road space where cars and trucks having earlier foresight began passing. Among traffic headed in both directions, this narrow pass made me wish I waited on the roadway. And darkness falls.

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Green Fuzzy Thing

What is green and fuzzy all over, besides the bread in Uganda? Did you love making handcrafts as a child in the same way I did? Doll clothes were my favorites. My maama taught me to sew and to this day I cannot sew button holes…and neither can she. Brianna is another young lady who enjoys learning a variety of handcrafts and just before I left her South Carolina home state, she offered up her precious pile for me to bring to her future Ugandan pen pal.

When identifying the best match as a pen pal for Brianna, Shelemiah Orphans Care Home came to mind, as this group cares for children of older ages. This is the place where the children come running and almost tackle me to the ground with hugs when I visit. I love that freedom of expression. I believe it shows their joy and happiness while living under the care of Dennis and a few others.

Dennis recommended Mary as a pen pal for Brianna because Mary is also learning to sew. We agreed that they might enjoy sharing their common talent. Mary and I snuck out to the car so that I could unload all Brianna’s gifts into her loving hands. Two finger crocheted scarves, a tote bag, and this green fuzzy thing that turned out to be a blanket. I felt compelled to explain to Mary that the blanket does not typify American blankets, but I don’t think Mary cared one bit. She wraped herself up in this treasure and, after posing for photos, ran off to begin writing her return letter.

Because I’ll see Mary and the children of Shelemiah again, I’ll wait to pick up that letter until a bit later. I’ll also prepare to tell a bit more of Mary’s story so that Brianna can learn about the life of orphaned children in Uganda.

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Jinja Art Studio

The broken street blocks catch the edge of my dirty flip flop as I edge my way past the iron sheets that have been blocking the corner for some years. Traffic whizzes by as I scurry to get out of the way. Just beyond those corrugated sheets, hiding who knows what, is the Jinja Art Studio. The first time I visited this city, I admired the work of the artist and then as I came to stay, learned that my accommodations would often be in his guest house. The house is filled with his art but the working studio really represents his love of this trade.

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