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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Pastor Patrick from Lira

Pastor Patrick and I sat next to one another during his visit to Calvary Chapel on Sunday. He was one among many pastors visiting with an international Bible school and attending a conference nearby. After introductions, Pastor Patrick asked to meet with me after church. His wish is to have me join his group of churches in Lira, Uganda for a three-day conference.

We met again at Fishing Village, the location of all my meetings on Thursday given the power outages around town. I can’t quite tell if Pastor Patrick was concocting this conference on the fly because of his chance meeting with me or if he actually had a conference already planned and will add me to the lineup. In Uganda, a mzungu just never knows. This is where the Holy Spirit really comes in handy. A quick prayer about the wisdom of making such a commitment and I tentatively agreed.

Sometimes I get a creepy feeling about people who want me to participate in some event with them – it’s always tempting to be flattered but the reality is that many people have ulterior motives. For example, a man approached me today and asked if I remembered him from church. I always think it’s possible so I tried to place him. He went on to tell a long story about our supposed conversation only to realize that we had never actually met before.

I got a sense of peace with Patrick and allowed the conversation and planning to take its natural course. The conference will be held in January and among many other things will contain a teaching about business planning and proposal writing. Patrick wants to build a school in Lira and he and his committee need help strategically positioning the school in the community and developing a proposal for funds. He mentioned that a number of other pastors in the area have similar visions and could benefit from some individual consulting to help facilitate their work.

I’ll continue to seek God’s wisdom for this conference and, until then, I look forward to returning to Lira in January.

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Meet Baby Laura

Dear Henry,

On July 3rd, your lovely wife delivered your fifth child…a girl. Allow me to introduce baby Laura to you. How honored her namesake must be, I’m sure. You know who this little darling is, but you have yet to see her, at least in pictures. It is entirely my privilege to be the first to show you this adorable little thing.

She is a very precious and content baby who has her daddy’s smile. Alice says she has been behaving well and Wilson says he thinks he likes her. Alice and I commented that he just needs a little time before deciding otherwise.

Wilson says that you come home at night when he’s sleeping and then leave again in the morning before he wakes. Although Lobu told him otherwise, we didn’t try hard to convince him.

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life. I love you and your family and am so thankful for the work you are doing on behalf of Mercy Uganda and the many, many others you help on a regular basis (including me!).

Hugs,

Leslie

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Karamoja Unaccompanied: Part III – The Ride Home

I heard the bus honking in the distance, a warning of impending departure. The recommendation was to depart for the bus at about 2:45 and Pastor Philip arranged for Ronald to pick me up and take me there, given the early hour and dark world. Yet it was 2:00. I became quite nervous about the bus leaving without me after I’d heard it honk three or four times. I ventured out into the darkness with only the light from the face of my phone to guide me. I stumbled my way to the bus and found a great seat near the front where the bumps would be less jarring. The bus left at 2:45…whew!

These birds flopped and fought right next to my feet on the way home...
and I didn't even get to eat one.
They thought my purple toenails were berries.

Carrying almost the entire town of people to Soroti, I sat in the seat right behind the door and stairs thinking this would be open space and that I would get a good view and perhaps even a little rest. It was not meant to be. About 12 men stuffed themselves into that small space, which meant they were sitting on the railing in front of me and leaning into my space. I wanted to fuss, but thought about the fact that I actually had a seat and decided otherwise.

From below the seat and behind, jerry cans shoved my feet forward. From the side, a maama’s bags forced my feet to the left. From the front, three sets of feet – some with shoes made from old tires and some with no shoes at all – vied for my little space. Generally they just plunked their feet down on top of mine. No amount of fidgeting would make that space any larger as I recalled Lauren's frequent comments about foot fungus.

Once in Soroti, the multitudes departed and there were only a few left standing. After changing buses I landed next to a man who decided to purchase a few chickens from a hawker (no pun intended) on the way home. Yea! The rest of trip was rather uneventful. I arrived in Kampala in time for a late meeting and made it home on a taxi without too much delay. Praise God for a safe journey.

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Karamoja Unaccompanied: Part II – The Well

Now what? I was to get pictures of a well to pass along to the donors and then return home the next morning. A quick recommendation to Pastor Philip that he arrange a ride for me despite his absence netted a kind young man, a stranger still, who introduced himself as Ronald, an assistant to Pastor Philip. He said that he looked for me at the bus but when he didn’t find me he simply asked the people if they saw me. Needless to say there aren’t many bright girls getting off the bus in Matany every day. They all pointed toward the Inn.

Ronald had a boda man with him who “knew” the way to Kayapath. This young man was concerned for my safety because of the approaching storm. I told him, “drive fast.” Finding your way to an entirely unmarked and unpathed (a new but accurate word) location…well, I did consider that I could have easily been in major trouble way out there. A few stops for directions and we found the village this particular boda man grew up in and left so many years ago. He went to school in Jinja and returned to Karamoja later for lack of work.

He skillfully navigated the bike through kilometers of slimy muck. Remember that the area has been dry for ages but recently the rains have come (thus Pastor Philip’s delay). Snap, snap, snap and the photos were done. The well was locked so that the cement could dry, which meant that we could not take photos of the well in operation. None-the-less, what a wonderful and generous gift to the people of Kayapath.

We made it back to the Inn just in time to beat the downpour and I generously rewarded the very kind young man who was entrusted with my life for that short journey. Pastor Philip finally arrived and greeted me at the Inn. We shared a time of fellowship and food, just the two of us. I missed Agnes (his wife) and the girls (Joy and Grace), but I promised to visit again. I am so blessed to know this family.

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Meet Baby Ricky

On Tuesday, July 5 at 5:40 in the evening, Gabriel and Ann welcomed Loyan VonRick into this world. I was honored when Lobu invited me to give a name to the tiny boy and coincidentally we both had some form of Rick in mind. Yes, I chose the name Ricky because of my husband without whom I would not be in Uganda today. He and Lobu share the same quiet, sweet spirit that I pray for tiny baby Ricky.

Bundled in four layers of blanket, which I will never understand, baby Ricky slept quietly while I looked on. His tiny 2.8 kgs (6.1 pounds) frame vanished into the recesses with only his bitty face exposed to the world.

Baby Ricky’s teeny tiny little fingers were mzungu color, and wrapped themselves gently but firmly around my own. His black curls were softer than a flower petal. Awake for a short time, he peeked up at me…studying, studying. Gabriel and Ann both commented how much baby Ricky looks like me. He will be called Ricky.

To be invited into the hearts and lives of this small family means more to me than I can express. Baby Ricky, you are welcome!

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Karamoja Unaccompanied: Part I – The Ride There

That 14 hour bus ride was only 12 hours this time, but 12 hours is still a very long day of travel. Gabriel said, “If Ann goes into labor you need to take her to the hospital for me.” The light bulb went on. Going to Karamoja, even for the two days worth of travel alone, was just too far and too long to be away given the impending birth of his first son. Suddenly, I heard some familiar voice coming from I know not where volunteering to go on his behalf. What!?! I volunteered to ride 12 hours one day, take a boda ride into the far reaches for about an hour, sleep among the mosquitoes, and then ride 12 hours back on a bus leaving at 3:00 AM?

The things that Gabriel has done for me at great sacrifice to himself are immeasurable. I count it an honor that he would find me to be a suitable replacement (although the required task was not overly complex). His usual watchfulness, though, was tempered by the fact that Pastor Philip would be there to receive me as the bus pulled in. In theory…

The ride began at 5:00 AM with a bus that stopped as often as possible along the way. The one stop I looked forward to was in Soroti. Remember the banana bread? Yum! Ten individual-size loaves for me please. The ride was long but uneventful…if you don’t count three men leaning into my space for lack of seats and over packed aisles. Sardines come to mind. I met Charles the teacher and Dan the soldier during that ride. I’m sure every man on the bus would have gladly exchanged contact information, but a girl needs to limit herself.

I stepped off the bus to no familiar faces. Pastor Philip was delayed by a flooded river and a broken bridge. “Walk to the Palace Country Inn,” were my instructions. I must admit that I felt rather grown up being allowed to walk that far down the only road in Matany in Karamoja all by myself. The familiar staff at the Inn welcomed me and told me that Pastor Philip had called ahead and arranged a room for me given that he was not there to receive me.

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Kisakye Means Grace



Lobu said, “I’ll pick you up at 6:30.” What for, I had no idea. To my surprise the car was loaded with friends. A short distance away, after plucking three white flowers from a vine along the roadside (one for each of the ladies), Gabriel pulled into a waterfront area where I admired the scenery for some time. Lake Victoria is accessible from a number of beaches nearby and the view is never disappointing.

Cement pylons lined the edge of the lookout area. I suppose they were intended to prevent cars from driving off the cliff. I thought hopping from one to the next would be fun, but they seemed so far apart…impossible to span. Short-legged Gabriel hopped up there and easily jumped from one to the other. With one guy on each side, holding me steady, I hopped from one to the next. Not to be topped, Gabriel promptly hopped two feet at a time, like a frog. I didn’t even bother trying. Seriously, they were very far apart.

The red-eye in this photo was just too funny to miss

given my sophisticated pose.

Still not really having any idea what we were doing other than enjoying nature, which I loved to do, the group moseyed to the upstairs of the empty restaurant where more friends were waiting. A birthday party…for me! We laughed and told stories and laughed some more. Then, that big box on the table that was blocking our view of the person across the table was lifted. Underneath was a beautiful Ugandan style cake with a happy birthday message painted in icing across the top. I really don’t know what kind of cake it was, spice something with raisins. It tasted yummy.

Among the various short stories told that night, Ronnie proposed that I needed a Ugandan  name now that I am born into their family. The discussion began in English by asking which clan I wanted my name to be from. How would I possibly know that? The conversation quickly turned to Luganda and I sat patiently smiling. In less than a minute they had the name chosen.

Lydia, Ann, Leslie, Ronnie, Herbert's friend, Gabriel

Missing: Herbert...someone had to take the photo.

Kisakye (chi-sah-chay). Kisakye means grace.

Gulp. How did they know that this was the special gift my father prayed over me constantly in those days after Rick died? How did they know this was the special email address he and I share? How did they know this was the word on the bracelet I made to ease me away from my wedding ring? How did they know that this word would have so much meaning in so many more different ways in my life?

Kisakye. The guys described the depth of meaning attributed to this word as the kind of grace God shows a couple who were trying to become pregnant and only after years and years finally succeed. The name might be given to that child, it’s not used lightly. Why would they chose that name for me? One thing I do know is that without the grace of God, I would not be here. Through God’s grace this past few years I have been, in a way, born into a new life.

Kisakye, evidence of God’s grace.

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Evaluation Microloan Applications

I developed an Excel spreadsheet to facilitate the assessment of microloan applications. Meeting with Gertrude to teach her how the spreadsheet works and to evaluate the first batch of loans with her was a pleasure. Gertrude is the financial manager at Jacaranda Creations, a very bright and wise woman. She had some knowledge of using the computer as well as Excel, but it was a privilege to be part of helping enhance her skills.

We talked through how the spreadsheet worked and what Gertrude would need to do with each application. We also talked about how to evaluate the viability of a given application and how to adjust each application if necessary. Adjustments may be needed if, for example, the applicant overestimates the retail price of the product they wish to offer or if the applicant underestimates the cost of materials. The multi-cultural committee will evaluate those costs to be certain they are all viable.

When evaluating the first few applications, I was dismayed at how little money it takes to help start a business and how long it takes to pay that money back. Mostly, though, I was less than surprised to find that selling the most common of products fails to meet profitability benchmarks. Selling charcoal, for example using the prices common to the marketplace, results in a financial loss. Gertrude and I asked one another how it was possible that our benchmarks weren’t met and yet hundreds of thousands of people were selling this charcoal alongside the road.

We agreed to meet and talk with some vendors to understand if they really do make a profit or if they end up in debt and can’t get out…thus remaining charcoal vendors into the distant future. Oh how this simple principle would help so many…even if they set a profitable prices across all vendors in the market that would be better than selling at a loss. Sigh, how to help a whole country overcome…

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A Dolly in Maruri

Armed with a dolly, we walked through the Marurui slum toward Virginia’s house. Theresa wanted to show us an example of her eco-jiko and Virginia was the first proud owner. One main path was lined on both sides with women preparing food for their one meal or with children watching the passersby. This main path was divided down the center with a river of sewage making its way downhill. Stepping back and forth across that river was necessary given that some banks were wider than others and thus more conducive for walking.

Between the iron sheet houses we snaked our way. Some of the sheets were covered in barbed wire which made passing through and not getting the skirt with too much fabric caught on the wire challenging. Other iron sheet rooftops hung at just the right height to scalp anyone who is 5’8” tall and perhaps decapitate a person taller than 6’.

I don’t take the task of giving the next dolly lightly. Children are everywhere and I always wait on the Holy Spirit to highlight a child to me. Maybe I don’t always get it right, but there is something…something about handing a doll made with such love and generosity over to the right tiny maama.

On the way to our destination I spotted two children dressed in red. These adorable kids stood out to me but I passed them by. Admittedly, I thought more about having missed the chance to give a dolly than about seeing the eco-jiko. But God is good and the two young ones were seated patiently alongside the path just watching the people pass. Mzungu in Kenya are not at all uncommon so there was no fear when I approached and crouched down. I opened my bag and pulled out the small dolly and placed her carefully in the hands of her new maama. To watch the smile emerge on these girls’ faces is a gift I would never wish to trade.

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Theresa's Eco-Jiko

Theresa prepared her financial plan before coming to the microloan workshop hosted by Jacaranda Creations, Seed of the Lord, and Surprised by Hope. She detailed a well-thought out pricing strategy and repayment plan and presented that plan to me as we worked together to complete the application form.

Theresa was asking for 8,000 KES (about $90 USD) to start an eco-jiko business. An eco-jiko is a clay stove that can burn either wood or charcoal (which is also made from wood so I’m not really sure of the difference other than size). She indicated that she has a demand for these stoves that will give her an immediate income. Believe it or not, that 8,000 KES will take about one year to repay if Theresa sells three stoves at the price she is asking every week.

One of the financial principles addressed in the workshop is how to respond to friends and family who ask for money when they know your business is prosperous. East African’s are almost socially bound to give whatever they have when asked, so overcoming this cultural demand is tricky. Attending the workshop opened the eyes of many women as we gave them permission to say “no” given the workshop teachings. Hopefully they really will have the courage to do so. Theresa acknowledged this flaw in her previous business attempts, but she now understands that keeping her business money and the salary she earns from the business separate is essential to the success of the business.

A multi-cultural committee will meet to evaluate each individual product analysis, including Theresa’s. I look forward to meeting with Theresa to talk about the importance of tithing, a financial element she neglected to include in her plan, and to show her how she can and will be profitable by tithing off the first part of her income.

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Microloan Workshop

Recently Brenda brought some small (by American standards) financial needs of the Jacaranda Creations women to a group calling themselves Seed of the Lord. This group is interested in anonymously offering microloans to meet these needs. Their heart is not only to meet the needs of these ladies, but also to help them learn financial principles that will give them a greater opportunity for success in the future.

Jacaranda Creations, Seed of the Lord, and Surprised by Hope worked side-by-side to bring relief to these ladies by creating and delivering a workshop (my role) to help them prepare a simple financial plan. We hope to continue providing workshops that will lead to even greater growth and prosperity by helping the ladies develop and implement full business plans.

To all of our surprise, about 20 ladies and a few men appeared in the doorway as an expression of their desire to learn these financial principles. Granted, some came thinking that a microloan meant we were giving way free money…but they stayed. Maybe they learned a thing or two that will help them even if we didn’t give them free money.

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Driving in Kenya

Day One:

Three practice drives in Uganda and I’m taking the girls to Nakumatt today. I hope they know where they’re going. Katie is keeping me on the left and Karen is giving directions. Becky recommended assigning someone for speed bump patrol too, but I’m out of girls.

Day Two:

I dropped Katie off at school for a clean-up day – only one helper in the car – and made it home all by myself. I’m such a big girl now.

Day Eight:

I’m an old pro at driving one particular path. I can get to Village, to Roslyn Academy, and to Jacaranda Creations. Just as I started to feel like I need more variety in the places I drive, off to church we went…highway and lots of road construction. I’ll never complain about Michigan road construction again (for a while). Then…the power steering and brakes went out just as we neared home (thank you, Lord). We made it, but almost took out a few posts and gates along the way. Big trucks are hard to turn and stop without power. Worked up a sweat on that one.

I hauled out my dusty old knowledge of how to jump a car battery and the dusty old jumper cables that went with it. The second car’s battery was dead. Dead beyond revival.

Just as I was wishing for a road map of Kenya like we have in the states, so that we could have a driving/sightseeing adventure, it all came to a screeching halt. Oh well, God probably protected us from something.

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Jacaranda Creations, Maruri Branch

Jacaranda Creations is a ministry designed to serve the ladies who live in the Nairobi slums by providing work and thus income. The needs of the families who live here are much greater than could ever be met by one ministry, but the effect Jacaranda Creations and Brenda are having on the women who live there is tremendous. I hope to learn more about her business model with the idea that it might be duplicated in Uganda, perhaps with the Konoweka women.

We visited the Maruri slums, the location of one of several branches where the women gather to work on projects assigned by Jacaranda. The office is simple and is one of four small sections in a larger (but still very small) building. The two rooms are tidy – one is filled with sewing machines that the ladies come to use every day, another is a workspace with a tall table and access to irons and other equipment needed to make the products. The walls are painted a soothing shade of lavender and a jacaranda tree graces one of them.

As I think about what this workspace means to Jacaranda and the women who work there, I think about the practical value. What goes into having such a space? First, rent and electricity (monthly). Second, equipment and maintenance (sewing machines, irons, scissors, etc.). How simple the idea seems, really, provided the cost of rent and utilities can be kept up. In Uganda, I believe this cost would be about $75 monthly.

The part I have yet to understand is how the equipment stays put and stays in good condition. I don’t mean to sound negative, but it’s much more common that equipment breaks down and stays in disrepair and that the scissors are “borrowed” never to be returned. Instilling a sense of ownership in the ladies who work here is essential but it’s not often enough. I look forward to talking to Brenda more about how she manages these outposts and how she identified and selected leaders to help.

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The Great Rift Valley

The Great Rift Valley is one continuous trench about 6,000 kilometers (3,700 miles) long. The Rift runs from northern Syria in Asia to central Mozambique in Africa. Once upon a time the earth’s crust weakened and tore apart, which created this jagged rift. The land on both sides erupted with great volcanic mountains and the valley floor sank into a low, flat plain. The Rift neatly divides Kenya down the length of the country essentially separating the East from the West. The Great Rift Valley is home to about 30 active and semi-active volcanoes and numerous hot springs.

While waiting for the girls, Don and Becky drove me just a few minutes outside Nairobi to see the Rift. Unfortunately, the day was pretty cloudy. What little I could see was beautiful. Although the site reminded me a bit of Estes Park, the size of this valley is beyond compare.

As with any touristy area, the small wooden shops lined the roadside. Rather than actually sitting on the road, though, these shops hung over the edge of the drop off supported underneath only by a few sticks. What a view! I did wonder about the toilet…given that they tend to be pit latrines.

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Seed of the Lord Microloans

I think the new Jacaranda office is on one of the roads near the school, although I wouldn’t bet my life on it. I met with Brenda today, the servant-leader behind the ministry. She and some other ministry-minded folks have been hoping to start a microloan service to meet the immediate and urgent needs of a few of the many people in Nairobi. Although we realize that most microloans are offered only to businesses that have already proven to be viable, they’re willing to take a few risks with start up businesses as well.

After establishing the goal as being that of teaching loan recipients some financial planning skills, we talked about our need for learning about the successes and failures of other microloan organizations. We hope to connect with experienced lenders to learn what to do and what not to do pertaining to these loans.

Several assignments were made, including assignments for me. I’m charged with reviewing an existing curriculum and concentrating that teaching into a 2 hour workshop. We’ll spend an hour reviewing the principles of business to help equip applicants to develop viable financial plans. We’ll spend the second hour reviewing the plan they develop, refining it, and talking about loan alternatives for those whose plan isn’t viable. I’ll deliver the workshop this week primarily to the initial loan applicants, but the workshop will be open to anyone wishing to apply. Finally, the applications will go to a committee who will decide whether or not to approve the loan based on the feasibility of the plan.

A few of us, including me, will provide ongoing business training to continue to equip loan recipients and applicants to understand principles of financial and business planning. I’m so excited to become part of what God is doing through Jacaranda Creations!

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Andrew and Lauren's Wedding

Witnessing the planning of an intercultural wedding was…interesting. The wedding committee meets several times ahead of the wedding to advise the bride and groom and to help ensure things run smoothly on the day of the wedding. In Lauren’s case, Andy was in the UK for several of the early meetings and Lauren was left to hold her own against a band of Ugandan cultural traditions. No, she would not have a changing dress (post wedding, pre reception) to the gasp of many. No, the budget would not allow inviting the entire community of family and friends related to each and every individual guest. Yes, she would choose her own reception music. And yes, she would actually kiss the groom during the ceremony. Every decision was a clash of cultures, but in the end the blend was beautiful.

Lauren chose me to be her matron of honor. I am under no illusion that her choice was based on the fact that her closest friends could not afford to travel to Uganda for the special day. But I’d like to think that I was a close second or third. We’ve become good friends during the five months we lived together, we have a rhythm that just works. Likening me to Rachel (from her favorite television series, Friends) at Barry and Mindy’s wedding sealed it. You would never do that to someone you didn’t know for sure would forgive you later. Now that I see the photos, she may have been right.

The pastor gave the best man and the matron of honor a lifelong charge to be wise counsel, among other things, for the bride and groom. I take that role very seriously. We may not always be in physical proximity. Friends grow apart. But I want both Andy and Lauren to know that I will always be there for them in whatever way needed for the rest of our lives. Andrew and Lauren make a beautiful couple and I look forward to watching their marriage mature.

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Open Air Film Ministry

The Namulanda trading center was the location of our open air film ministry. The center boasts a small circle of open space surrounded by vendors of various sorts. As darkness descends, the food vendors emerge. This nightlife is all new to me. I’m instructed to stay inside at night for safety reasons – with special dispensation when surrounded by lots of guys from the ministry team – so I never knew all this yummy food became available after dark.

As we set up the video stand and screen along with all the necessary equipment, we learned that the house from which we would get our power could not support the sound system, computer, and video projector. Snap, the power went out just as we were prepared to show the film. Two weeks in a row the power of electricity zapped our ability to have this time of ministry. I choose to believe the enemy is fighting a battle against us because we are doing a good thing for God.

As we made preparations to set up, the children swarmed to see what was happening. One tiny tot – she couldn’t have even been a full year old yet – grabbed my finger without fear. I couldn’t resist but to pick her up. She snuggled up to my chest and promptly fell asleep. Again, disappointed that the film ministry didn’t take place but loved the little surprise I got at the end.

So many people were disappointed that the film wasn’t shown. Sometimes they think we’re liars and trying to trick them. Please pray that the enemy would be defeated to the glory of God. Amen.

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Change for Change

Many of us have heard that change is normal and that we should get used to it. Just about the time we get used to constant change, something changes. Some of us have even choked on a change wheel designed to “help” us through the change process.

For the women of the Nairobi slums, sometimes change doesn’t happen fast enough. When will change come to their living conditions? When will change come to the cost of school fees? When will change come to the sanitation facilities? When will change come to the lack of food on the table? You can help!

1.      Take one of the Jacaranda change purses. 2.      Fill it to the brim with the biggest change you can find. Ask your coworkers, talk to your neighbors, let your kids take it to school, empty the ash tray in your car, dump the Mason jar, clean under the sofa cushions, dig out the bottom of your purse. No, you don’t have to be able to zip it shut. 3.      Give the change (and keep the change purse) to a woman of Jacaranda Creations. 4.      Contact me for delivery and pick up.

One change purse to create positive change one woman.

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Attention Coffee Lovers

Six million people work in the Kenyan coffee-growing industry, an industry regulated by a corrupt government auction system. The idea was to create fair international trade for even small and family-owned farms. However, because the industry has become so lucrative, given the delicious flavor and high demand of Kenyan coffee, small and family-owned farms are losing out.

Unlike Kenya, I’ve actually been into Kapchorwa and Mount Elgon of Uganda to see the local people growing, harvesting, drying, and selling the coffee along the roadside. The Uganda Coffee Development Authority was designed to foster the growth of a quality coffee industry there; whether or not the authority includes corruption is unknown. Since the early 1990s, the coffee industry of Uganda has been entirely in the private hands of almost 2.8 million people working in the industry.

If you’re a coffee lover then you’ll love this. Help the small farm families of East Africa by ordering 2 kilos (roughly 1 pound) of whole bean Kenyan or Ugandan coffee for $20 and I’ll hand deliver that coffee directly from the country of origin into your hands. Don’t worry, I’ll purchase the coffee for you just before I leave.

If you’d like some fresh East African coffee, just send me a note and I’ll give you more details.

In the mean time, check out these links for more information about the coffee industry in East Africa.

Coffee Board of Kenya

Uganda Coffee Trade Federation

Uganda Coffee Development Authority

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Fred's Mom's House and Bujagali Falls

The house was a generous gift from a Florida family and we stopped there to visit the woman known only as Fred’s mom. Henry, Gabriel and others helped to build this small house for Fred’s mom, who took five grandchildren into her original one-room home after both their parents died.

We found Fred’s mom and daughter sitting on the outside veranda shucking beans for their one meal of the day. They welcomed us into their simple structure and thanked Mercy Uganda for the generous gift. Ugandans have such good manners – they’re very formal in the way they greet and thank visitors.

Just a hop, skip, and a jump beyond Fred’s mom’s house was…Bujagali Falls. Yep, you can’t drive all this way and NOT visit the falls…right? The falls are scheduled to be flooded within the next four months. Sad. Hopefully that’s four months Africa time and not mzungu time.

This lovely lizard thingy crawled up next to me and sunbathed, while I watched to be sure he didn’t decide to have me for lunch. As usual the view was magnificent. During my next trip to Jinja, I’ll be sure to do some rafting lest the falls be gone completely.

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Street Children

Cars come to a screeching halt at the wave of the traffic police (never mind the stoplights) in the 1.5 million-person city of Kampala. A 10-minute or more wait is not unheard of during rush hour traffic. Most people call this a nuisance, I call it motion economy. The hawkers shove their wares – sunglasses, belts, airtime, maps, sugar cane, and more – into open car windows until the passengers forcefully decline. They move on to the next vehicle.

The children descend on those same passengers in hopes of being given a little money. The streets of Kampala are filled with beautiful, smart, imaginative children. Unfortunately, these very children are often taken from far-away Karamoja (although some are from other places) and made to work as beggars. They have pimps. Even the babies and young toddlers know their role in this giant world. Imagine how your child would respond to being asked to sit on the sidewalk with their tiny hands out for 15 minutes, let alone all day every day. Add to that not speaking the language of the majority of people in the country – the Karamajong children speak Karamajong, not Luganda or English.

Taking pictures is usually met with forceful insistence that payment is required, but upon this occasion I used the logic that they approached me…I didn’t approach them. How odd that we pity the children for how they are forced to live, yet we also find them a nuisance when they come to the car window begging for food or money. Food or money they won’t likely get to keep for themselves.

We lamented over how nice it would be to take these children off the street and love them, educate them, and help them grow. Then we anguished over the fact that they would hardly be let go of their income-generating positions without a serious fight. I pray that God would grant us the wisdom to know exactly how we can make a difference in this crazy world.

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Konoweka Bibles

“Turn in your Bibles to Ephesians 2:1-10.” Typically the sound of pages fluttering would fill the room. However, silence filled this small church. The group of women meeting at the Konoweka Orphans and Widows Hut are learning about entering God’s presence thanks to a set of Bible study guides donated for their use. Unfortunately, they cannot turn to the Bible verse because most don’t have a Bible where they can meet with and learn about God.

The loving folks at Beaverdam Baptist Church felt led to collect and send Bibles for these ladies and wow did they ever send Bibles. Five huge boxes arrived; each box carefully stuffed with Bibles, bookmarks, and personal notes to the ladies. I just got a message that six more boxes are on their way. What an amazing gift!

I explained to the women that these Bibles appear well-worn. In some of the Bibles the leather was cracked, the pages were written in, or the paper turned yellow. We talked about what the gift of heavily used Bibles really means. People in the United States tend to keep their Bible for a long time. They write in it, pray from it, and sometimes carry it wherever they go. They record their names, births, deaths, and other important events. These books are not just any books. What all this Bible wear means is that the most treasured items were sacrificed just for them. These Bibles had owners, they have histories, they have life.

The women debated over who would get which Bible – some loved the KJV translation, some needed the larger print, others wanted the blue Bible whose specific history was known. They hugged these Bibles to their chests like they were defending a football.

Yea God! Thank you for putting all these people in my life – Konoweka and Beaverdam.

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Konoweka Children

Children scream “mzungu” and come running at me as soon as I turn the corner. Runny noses, dirty paws, coughs and all…I greet these children with hugs and cheers. We walk together – three or four tiny hands in one of each of my own hands – toward the church. Initially the children ran around the dirt-floored structure until they were shooed out by a passing adult.

Last week I began singing children’s Bible songs and we enjoyed a short time of child-like worship together before the ladies arrived. This week, the children came running as usual but instead of running crazy each child sat quietly on the bench in front of the room waiting for me to begin singing.

Eight little voices sang the Hallelujah, Praise Ye the Lord song among many other songs I scarcely recalled from my own childhood. Then, each child sang in their best little voice the song of their own choosing. Such a beautiful part of the Ugandan culture includes music and dance. One small girl had a voice that almost brought me to tears. She sang well enough but that wasn’t it. The Holy Spirit was in that particular voice. Oh my.

Once the ladies began to arrive we rounded the children into a circle and Pastor Jessica and I prayed over them. What a special gift! Dear God, please make every week before Bible study just like this one.

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Real Pancakes

Betty Crocker has been tucked away in a Ziplock for several months now just collecting dust on the lower pantry shelf in the kitchen. Mom sent me two boxes of white cake mix with frosting because Lauren had a hankerin’. Lauren picked up the box while I was away and never made the cake. These boxes called to me…but the dilemma, as always, was how to cook them with only a propane gas stovetop cooker.

Eventually I got around to thinking to myself, self…how different are pancakes from cake-cake really? They can’t be that much different. I wonder if white cake in the shape of pancakes would cook in the pan properly. Hmm, pan-cakes.

I broke open the box and carefully measured the powdery mix out onto a plate-bowl. (That would be 4 cups exactly.) I chose to divide the mix into thirds because three egg whites were required and dividing eggs seemed most challenging. Then I moved 2.66 cups back into the original bag and used a clothespin to seal it from our ant friends. I divided the remaining ingredients into thirds – 1 egg white, 1/3 plus 1/3 of 1/3 cup water, and 1/3 of 1/2 cup oil.

Oil in the pan and cake mix in the pan in small pancake-cookie shapes. The cookies were a bit lighter and fluffier than pancakes but, um…they were soooooo good. Frosting topped the mix although that may come back on me later. The can seemed to have popped open like the individual size can of Pringles on an airplane. So, this frosting may have been open since January. I thought the little brown things were chocolate chips.

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