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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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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