Poverty and Suffering

I’ve waited until the end of the semester to talk about poverty and suffering and a Christian response because these are the most difficult and complicated issues I’ve been faced with all semester, and so I’ve found it necessary to take in all I can this semester before being ready to write a truthful and adequate reflection on the subject. Poverty and suffering are difficult and complicated both in terms of the depth and magnitude of human suffering and in the complexity of seeking and implementing effective solutions. But along with that, they are probably the most important issues I’ve faced this semester, and my blog would be grossly incomplete without a reflection on poverty and suffering.

I certainly haven’t lived among the poor of Uganda this semester; the program couldn’t put us in such conditions. According to American standards and ways of living my family is certainly poor, but here in Uganda they are definitely middle class and have all they need to live. But I’ve seen a bit of the slums and the appalling conditions many people live in and have read a lot about the world’s poor.

We’ve read Ron Sider’s Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger to facilitate our discussion about poverty and a Christian response. He discusses what the Bible has to say about poverty and economics – which is a whole lot! The model of the Old Testament Israelites and that of the early church is economic sharing around the communion table breaking bread, where all those who were in need were provided for by their brothers and sisters in Christ. Many of the verses must cause us to question our cultural values of earning and wealth - do they truly embody economic, social, and political practices of grace as Christians are called to exemplify? Truly all we have belongs to God, and he commands that we care especially about the weak and the vulnerable and their needs. I could say a whole lot more about this, but to summarize an incredibly important issue: As Christians we MUST care about the poor of this world.

To complete the rest of my reflections, my personal reflection on my semester here in Uganda and how I see it impacting my life follows. The question was posed as: "How do you see your semester in Uganda affecting your life in the future, from 6 months to 60 years from now?"
I find it difficult to look at my life six months from now, nonetheless 60 years from now, largely due to the fact that I can’t imagine the life changes I’ll have undergone in the intervening time. Six months from now I’ll be a college graduate, embarking on the “real world” with a diploma and high aspirations of what I can contribute to the world in one hand and college loans, car payments, and living expenses in the other. Sixty years from now, should Christ tarry and God grant me those years, I hope that I will be a healthy 80-year old woman who has faithfully served God and people in whatever stations of life I found myself, which at this point I’m unsure what those may be. Maybe I’ll have been a missionary serving overseas, building relationships and with the help of the Holy Spirit along with the indigenous Christians doing the difficult work of trying to best contextualize the Gospel to a culture much different from my own. My experience in Uganda this semester has certainly given me the assurance that I’m well-fit to live overseas and made me aware of the challenges I would face were I to do so. Or maybe I’ll have been a successful prosecutor who made a mark on the American legal system. Or maybe I’ll have been an “average Joe” who lovingly raised my family but in the way I interacted with and served others was anything but ordinary. Time will tell which vocation I’ll pursue, but wherever life takes me I purpose to strive to faithfully glorify God and serve others.

It would be really easy to say that my semester in Uganda has changed me forever and I’ll never be the same again, but this seems unrealistic, especially based on the facts that I’ve not returned home yet and it takes a lot to effect true change that will remain through the ups and downs of life. A more realistic statement would probably be that I’m more likely to forget the things I’ve seen here and the issues I’ve been challenged by and rather settle back into my comfortable American life. However, I’m determined that this will not be the case. I’m convinced that I’m responsible to respond to what I’ve seen and learned this semester in a constructive way. This semester I’ve struggled through and learned a lot about important issues such as poverty, conflict, development, the AIDS epidemic, debt, foreign aid, trade, and missions. The things I’ve read and the perspectives I’ve developed will serve to inform my worldview and will affect career decisions I make and how I contribute to this world. I’ve also developed incredible relationships with my host family especially. With them I’ve shared so many memorable experiences and learned a great deal about following the way of Christ, loving others, and about what truly matters in life. But while the knowledge I’ve gained and the relationships I’ve developed are significant, neither will leave me forever changed, and I doubt they’re enough to make me look back on my semester in Uganda 60 years from now and be able to reflect on the change that was forever wrought in my life. Rather, the things which I hope will leave a lasting effect on me are what I’ve learned about the character of God and the way he relates to His people, rich and poor alike, and the implications of this for how we should live towards others.

People from home are amazed at my willingness to live as I have the past four months and willingly embrace the discomforts – bucket baths, pit latrines, the same food everyday. But when I realize that this is how the majority of people in the world live, it doesn’t seem like me living like this should be so difficult for me. If billions of people do it all the time, surely I can. We know such incredible luxury in the U.S., and most of us don’t have the slightest clue what a privileged minority we are. At a huge 50th anniversary celebration this past weekend I sat next to the wife of Bishop Nkoyoyo, the man who had the vision for making Uganda Christian University not just a theological school but a university and who served as the first vice-chancellor of UCU. He is an incredibly wise man who’s never had any schooling past Secondary 1 – the equivalent of 8th grade! He and his wife have traveled to the states, and my conversation with her centered on where I live in the States and where she’s traveled. One of my first questions to her was “What did you think of the U.S.?” Her immediate reply was, “You take everything for granted.” Tears immediately welled up in my eyes as I acknowledged the truth of her statement. I humbly replied “We do; we don’t know any better. We’ve never known anything but luxury.” How true this is. The world is the most interconnected it’s ever been – we hear about news across the world seconds after it happens, the news reports as much war and bloodshed as it can, which so often desensitizes us, and we don’t blink. And we don’t realize that what we have the vast majority of the world doesn’t.

All of us ask the question of why people suffer – of how a good, loving God could allow his creation to experience pain. This is the timeless theological question of the problem of pain. During my time here especially I’ve prayed about this, delved into Scripture in search for answers, and talked with my fellow Christians. The conclusion I’ve come to is this: The Bible doesn’t provide an answer for why we suffer, but rather presents us with a God who loves us so deeply that he willingly joins in our suffering. This is especially pertinent at Christmas time, when we celebrate the Incarnation of Christ. We celebrate the fact that a perfect, loving God came to live among us, sinful man. But so often I think we miss the real point: that God’s coming to live among us isn’t just some “get out of hell free” card that if we only accept we’re guaranteed a better life in eternity where we’ll live in the Kingdom of God, but the miracle of the Incarnation is that Christ participates in human life – he shares in our joys, sorrows, and in our suffering. “His state was divine, yet he did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as we are; and being as we are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8). Christ’s coming to Earth is not something that is just relevant to the spiritual world and the life hereafter, but the fact that in joining in human existence Christ has not simply become a bridge by crossing the gulf separating man from God, but he has closed the gulf. The implication of this is huge: Christ is relevant to everyday, physical existence! We speak so often of a characteristic of God being His transcendence, and to define this we multiply our human attributes by infinity to describe how great and mighty is God. But real transcendence, the real character of God, means that Jesus lives only for other people – truly this is contrary to our human nature! And this is the new life to which we are called in Christ – to life in existence for others, in participating in the being of Jesus.

What does this life and way of “participating in the being of Jesus” look like? Christ’s words in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapters five through seven give us instruction in how we are to live, and the Gospels present us with a way of living that is contrary to our competitive, self-centered, and retribution-seeking nature. Christ commands us to love our enemies, that we “not repay anyone evil for evil,” “never avenge ourselves,” “if our enemies are hungry, feed them,” and “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:17-21). As Camp explains, following Christ in this way is not easy: “The way of the cross is a costly, sacrificial way of dealing with injustice, conflict, and rebellion against the ways of God.” The way of Christ is that of the suffering servant, and somehow in joining in His suffering as He calls us we become more like Christ.

Following the way of Christ is participating in building the Kingdom of God here on Earth in this life. Some Christians, in their looking forward to the New Jerusalem which is to come, wonder why we should seek to reform this present fallen world and work against injustices. Rather, they say, the New Testament tells us that this present, evil world is hopeless and that a world free of injustice can only be given by God. As Christians in this present world we are to be hopeful, prayerful, and patiently waiting for the New Kingdom. I have come to know that there is something drastically wrong with this line of thinking. While on earth, did Jesus teach that the Kingdom of God was to remain unseen until the coming of the New Jerusalem – that the holy, just, and peaceful reign of God must continue to be waited upon? Certainly not! Following his baptism and time in the dessert, Jesus returned to Galilee declaring, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the Gospel”. Jesus declared that his arrival and ministry were the fulfillment of Israel’s messianic expectations, which included the expectation of shalom – that in his person and work the long-expected reign of God was decisively breaking in. Jesus did not tell his followers to patiently await the sight of justice and shalom; rather, he marked the breaking in of God’s kingdom, justice, and shalom to transform this world! Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday, the first day of the week, is significant: it marked a new order of being and possibility – the start of God’s new creation! Jesus sought to change the very social structures which hindered the flourishing of shalom, and as his followers we are called to do the same, walking with the knowledge that while this world will never reach perfection, the kingdom of God is here, it has defeated the earthly powers and principalities, and God’s shalom can be worked for and experienced! So by the way we live we can stand with hope for man and this planet because far from abandoning this world, the faithful God has made a covenant with this planet and has not forgotten his creation, breaking into the kingdoms of this world, declaring that the gates of Hades will not overcome and that Christian hope is for within history, not just beyond it!

Especially when faced with the gross realities in which people live and struggle to survive, it’s easy to feel paralyzed by the magnitude of the problem, both out of feeling inadequate to make any effective change and out of responding in disgust and seeking to erase the pictures and realities from your mind because they make you so uncomfortable. I’ve come to believe that compassion is not the natural human response to the suffering and poverty of the world, but that it is our response to hide from this and try to erase it from our minds because it makes us so uncomfortable. So this is what I hope and pray has made the biggest impact on me during my time in Uganda: that I would forever be unsettled by the poverty and suffering that my fellow people, my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, experience around the world and in my backyard. And that by the grace of God I would be willing to share in their suffering if necessary, whether by struggling in prayer for them or giving what I have that they may simply live. And finally, that this discomfort would always drive me to action and that I would constantly be seeking how I may best improve their plight.

It’s been said that “only change is guaranteed,” and while it seems ironic yet true that one of the only things that remains is the surety that life is about constant change, I firmly believe there is someone else who is guaranteed to remain through all circumstances and changes in life. I think of my final dinner with my friend Judith during our Kapchorwa homestays. I was saying my goodbyes to her and her family and thanking her for her hospitality and graciousness to me. Just before I walked out the door of her thatched-roof mud hut, she grabbed my arm and looked me in the eyes and said, “I may not know much about your life in America, but one thing I do know: hold onto Jesus for all of your life, and never let go. He’s the only thing that really matters.” With tears in my eyes and a determination in my heart to faithfully heed the words she had spoken, I left her home. I’m not scared to leave Uganda determined to willingly remain unsettled by the pain and suffering in this world and to seek to participate in it and seek to resolve it because I’m not embarking on this journey on my own. Rather, the community of believers walks with me on this journey, and the God who calls us to follow Him and to love and care for His people walks with us through times of joy, heartache, and pain and strengthens us. So along with the community of the people of God and by His leading, I purpose to always willingly be unsettled by the pain and suffering in this world, and to join in it. And this is how I hope my experience in Uganda will change my life forever, for six months to 60 years from now.

Thanksgiving, AIDS orphans, and a Medical Clinic in Bwindi

Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I’m so aware of the MANY blessings I have to be thankful this year, especially considering all the poverty and suffering I’ve seen here, but also the joy so many have by the grace of God despite their circumstances. I had a great Thanksgiving here. We had class in the morning, then played American football for a few hours – it was a ton of fun. I sacked the QB a couple times :). After that the vice-chancellor and his wife had all the students, American professors, and other Americans in Uganda over for a big Thanksgiving dinner – turkey, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and of course, matooke! There were tons of deserts; it was so good. We watched Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving and Christmas, which I don’t usually watch at Thanksgiving, but it was nice to do something that made me feel like I was home. It was really nice to celebrate Thanksgiving with all my friends here; I’ve gotten to be pretty close to a few of them. I did miss watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, but there’s always next year ;)

Two weekends ago we met with an organization that works to partner traditional healers and modern medical practitioners, since the vast majority of Africans see a traditional healer and will never see a modern doctor. The statistic was something like there is one traditional healer for every 140 people and one modern doctor for every 120,000 people here. The organization trains traditional healers specifically in knowing the symptoms of AIDS and helps them establish ties with modern doctors that they refer people to. We met with a traditional healer, who threw sea shells and interpreted them to tell the condition of one of the girls in our group. He didn’t report anything significant; it was an interesting experience.

We visited an orphanage for children whose parents have died of AIDS; many of the children are HIV positive. One family of 6 children was headed by the eldest, a 16 year old girl; they live at home and the orphanage helps provide food and support. All the children could do was speak of how good God is and how much they love the Lord. They sang praise songs in English and Luganda about God’s faithfulness, goodness, and provision. It was an incredibly humbling experience – they are so thankful for all God has given them and worshipped so joyfully. We played games with them for hours; it was a blast. I was reminded of Christ’s words: “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of God.” Those words ring true to my experience; I felt so humbled and almost unfit to sing along with these children who have experienced so much more pain and suffering than I’ve ever known.

That same weekend we met with the Bishop of the Church of Uganda (the name for the Anglican/Episcopal church here) of the Luwero Diocese. He studied in Philadelphia and worked at a church in St. Davids – the town where my university is! It was crazy to find that connection. I’m sure most of you are aware of the current conflicts in the Episcopal church in America over homosexuality. As a result, some conservative Episcopal churches in the U.S. have broken from the American church and sought to be under the oversight of more conservative bishops in other countries. The bishop we met with oversees 8 churches in the U.S., and he talked about the pros and cons of this arrangement – that churches are able to be under leadership with whom they agree theologically, but that it is very difficult to provide sufficient oversight from half a world away. On Sunday we went to a Catholic church for worship, which certainly was quite the dynamic experience. The service was obviously liturgical and similar to Catholic services I’ve been to in the States, but at the conclusion of the service a group of about 25 young girls dressed in traditional outfits came out and danced to 6 songs!! And most memorable of all was the priest, who had recorded the music they danced to, which was something like Afro-pop, and sang along and danced! It was pretty amusing seeing a priest dancing and essentially rapping at the alter! Our group discussed how much our experience represented the effective contextualization of the Gospel – that the Gospel message had truly become theirs and been contextualized to the African context and culture. There’s a clinic at the church, and a group of women sang to us about AIDS, the symptoms, and how to prevent transmission. They sang a lot about the fact that AIDS is not a death sentence – there’s such a stigma here about AIDS, and many people don’t want to know their status even if they have all the symptoms. They sang in doo-op style, like a barbershop quartet. To us it sounded pretty cheesy, but it’s very culturally relevant – the culture is so oral and singing a very effective means of communication.

This past weekend the 9 of us in the Ministry and Missions Emphasis traveled to Bwindi, which is in the Southwest corner of Uganda only 2 kilometers from the Congo border. The area is Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, a national park where the endangered mountain gorillas live and is a huge tourist attraction. (A permit to track the gorillas is $500!) We stayed at a camp in the forest. Our hut was pretty plain, but nice enough, and the food was great. We didn’t get to see gorillas, but we were told that the morning before we arrived they had been feeding right near our hut. We met with an American doctor who’s established a medical clinic among the Batwa people. The Batwa are pygmys, and the clinic has flourished and is now run by the Ugandans, including 2 Ugandan doctors, and does tons of great things in the community. On Saturday we accompanied the doctor on a medical clinic in one of the VERY remote villages high in the mountains – it took us about an hour to drive there from the clinic along REALLY bumpy, muddy roads on the face of the mountain. Our van got stuck in mud a couple feet deep twice; pushing it out was a fun experience. The medical clinic is one of the most memorable experiences of my time here in Uganda. We set up a tarp and two wooden benches on a flat area on the edge of a mountain in the village that overlooked the incredibly dense forest. Before beginning we greeted the people in the little of their native language that the doctor had taught us: Agandi! Indi Joelle, Ndeego America. (Greetings! I am Joelle, I come from America.) Then they played drums for us and danced their traditional dances. We joined in dancing, which gets incredibly exhausting after not very long – jumping up and down and kicking feet in imitation. Then all day the doctor, me, a doctor’s assistant, and one other USP student sat on one bench facing the many people that lined up (more like crammed in) to come see the doctor. The doctor kept me by his side all day and taught me to do tons. I listened to everyone’s lungs and heart with a stethoscope and learned enough of the language to ask what was wrong (of course I couldn’t understand their response so the doctor had to translate). I wrote all the medical records and the prescriptions as the doctor ordered, and by the afternoon I knew what the prescription should be for the sicknesses that were common in most people, so I was prescribing the medicine and just checking it with the doctor to be sure. We saw lots of little babies that had colds and a couple that were pretty malnourished and sick, who we brought back to the hospital with us. An old man was carried to us and set down next to us. He looked terrible – he was INCREDIBLY thin, his skin was loose off his body, and he couldn’t move himself. He was carried there by others and set down on a mat on the ground next to us. The doctor and I made our way over to the man. I listened to his lungs and heart, neither of which sounded very good at all. He was incredibly weak, and Dr. Scott checked him out while I set up a drip. The doctor had a really hard time getting a vein to insert the needle, but eventually found one. The doctor said the man likely had tuberculosis and maybe AIDS, and perhaps organ failure. He said he seemed likely to die, and when I asked whether bringing him to the hospital would just prolong his death, he posed the question of whether we have the right to make the decision of whether he should have the chance to live. TB can be treated and someone with HIV can live for years on anti-retrovirals, he told me. The man lay on the mat the rest of the day and looked a little better after getting some fluids into him. We brought him back to the hospital at the end of the day, and that’s the last I heard of him.

I preached in church in Bwindi, which was a really awesome experience. I began with the story of Horatio Spafford, the man who wrote the hymn “It is Well” following the death of his son and four daughters and the downfall of his real estate investments. I related that account to the story of Job and posed the question of whether we serve God for nothing in return and simply because He’s worthy or we only serve God for the blessings we will receive in return. Then I discussed that the Christian life is never guaranteed to be easy, in fact we are guaranteed suffering and persecution, but that by the strength of the Holy Spirit and the fellowship, encouragement, and bearing of one another’s burdens among our brothers and sisters in Christ we can persevere. I concluded by having our group sing “It is Well” in 3-part harmony. It was really touching, and I was told by many how well the message was received. Having to stop after every sentence or two for the translator to translate the message was a cool experience; it was difficult at first to not get distracted and lose my train of thought, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. I also fell on the stage about 20 minutes before preaching! It was totally not my fault, and incredibly embarrassing! Dr. Scott asked all the mzungus in our group to come on the stage and introduce ourselves in Rukiga (the language spoken there), and since I was already seated on stage I stood up and he came over and grabbed my hand and pulled. I had no time to react, and as my foot hit part of the seat I knew instantly I was going down. I was laughing pretty hard by the time I hit the ground, and when all the mzungus broke out in laughter the about 300 people in the church knew it was ok to laugh. It was pretty funny, and also pretty embarrassing. I laughed along and brushed it off – what can you do?!?! Offering in church especially in rural areas here is always an interesting experience – people bring chickens, vegetables, fruit, matooke, sugar cane, and other things, since most people’s wealth here is in the form of what they grow. After the service everyone remained seated and the deacons auctioned off all that was brought, putting the proceeds in the offering basket! Someone in our group bid on a chicken and won, then held the chicken in her lap for the remainder of the auction. It was a pretty amusing sight. She gave the chicken to the man who had translated for me as a gift.

I have a new sister!! Her name is Grace, and she’s 12 and really cute. She’s serving as our housemaid, and Momma told me that she’s an orphan. I don’t know much else about her and haven’t bombarded her with enough English yet to know how good her English is yet, because I didn’t want to overwhelm her.

In other news, we had a costume party a couple weeks ago with all the USP students and the African Honors College students. It was so much fun – we carved pumpkins and bobbed for apples and ate ice cream!! The girls in the Ministry and Missions group dressed up along the theme of the Magic School Bus; we each had a different character and one of the girls whose personality is quite similar to Miss Frizzle dressed up as her. We drew a huge yellow school bus on a big piece of paper and carried it to the party. It was a ton of fun. One of the missionary families had us over for homemade lasagna and a movie – boy was that a treat! We watched “The Mission,” an older movie which I would highly recommend. It was about the Jesuit mission to Brazil, the genuine conversion of many of the people there and the establishment of indigenous churches, and the subsequent murder of the native people by the Portuguese army when the Jesuits refused to withdraw their mission and it no longer aligned with Portugal’s interests. It was pretty thought-provoking. The group of us American students led community worship two weeks ago. The power went out for a few minutes in the middle of singing, so we chuckled a little and sang and played instruments later. Oh Africa! :)

This is our last week of classes, and I have 6 10-page papers to write within the next week and a half! Yuck. I’m looking forward to schoolwork being over and coming home, though I know I’ll be really sad to leave Uganda and the relationships I’ve developed here. I hope all is well at home! Thanks for your continued prayer, support, and encouragement. It’s so nice to see new family and friends that have found my blog!

Rural Homestay in Kapchorwa!!

My homestay in Kapchorwa was incredible!!! The town is in the mountains, and my family literally lived on the side of one. It was incredibly beautiful there – many waterfalls and lush green everywhere you looked. From high on the mountain you looked out for hundreds of miles on vast plains that extended for what seemed like forever. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I stayed with the Kapchemut family of the Sabiny tribe, Kapyis clan. Everyone here identifies themselves firstly by clan and tribe, and most people can’t comprehend that we don’t have either in the US. When I tell people, especially in rural areas, in shock they can’t imagine how we’re socially organized. I became a member of their clan and tribe, and they really considered me part of their family. Though I was only there for five days, I truly felt like I was a part of their family. I was given the Kupsabiny (pronounced Coop-sabb-een) name Cherotich, which means I arrived at the time the cattle come in (around 6 PM). They called me this during the time I was there. The family was Momma, Papa, five sons (though I only met the youngest two – Victor and Aggrey – because the others were away at boarding school, as are most Ugandan children if their parents are able to afford to send them), an orphaned niece named Immaculate who lived with them (which is EXTREMELY common here, as many children are orphaned due to AIDS especially), and a woman named Grace in her early 30s that had been raised by them, was considered a daughter, and came home for the time I was there. Momma and Papa are both primary school teachers and Grace had recently graduated from Makerere University (the largest university in Uganda, in the capital city of Kampala) with a degree in sociology and is now working for the Kapchorwa district government. The five boys and Immaculate are all in school, the oldest son in a clinical medicine program. Momma and Papa spoke of how difficult it was to pay school fees for all their children, but they had managed. They placed an incredibly high value on education and seemed very motivated and determined to create a better, more prosperous for their children than they had known. The children all seemed very intelligent and capable of great success, evidenced in the fact that the oldest is training to be a doctor and that they all get good grades in school. My family does not have a vehicle; no one in the area did with the exception of a few closer to the town. Papa walks over an hour each way to the school where he teaches. They also have no electricity or running water (if you’re wondering, many people closer to towns have electricity, but hardly any homes have running water. 80% of Ugandans live in rural areas, so that shows you how many don’t have electricity.) My family gets their water from a cave about half a mile up the mountain. Momma gets water from there twice a day. I helped her once. The walk is pretty steep, and I was pretty eager to put down the one jerry can I carried. I’ll never cease to be amazed at all that African women can carry on their heads. Momma carries a huge jerry can upright on her head down the mountain and carries one in her hand. I’ve seen many women with heavy things on their head, a baby tied around their back, and things in both hands. Crazy!

My family owned a few acres of land, and there were three separate homes (very common) – a square mud home with a tin sheet roof where I stayed, a mud building with 2 rooms, one a kitchen and another the youngest boys’ room, and a mud hut with a thatched roof where the sons sleep when they’ve become teenagers, as is customary. I had my own room with a bed and table. There were multiple really big spiders that blended into the mud walls of my room really well, and I occasionally shone my flashlight on them to be sure they were still on the wall and not in my bed! The family sits in the kitchen at night, and it gets soooo smoky. It didn’t bother any of them, but I couldn’t handle it for very long. (Janelle, Linds, and Cait: So I’ve definitely seen plenty of mud huts, and while I didn’t sleep in one, my family had one! And I slept in a mud house!) The pit latrine was a couple hundred feet walk from the buildings. Papa told me that their tradition is to give some of their land to their sons. My family has two cows, one of which was pregnant and due only a few days after I left! We also had a cat that slept on the chair in our living room – reminded me my kitties at home!! Two dogs served as security guards during the night hours, mostly as protection against the Karamajjong, a warrior tribe that conducts night raids and steals people’s cattle and sometimes kill people that get in their way. Their tribe lives off of the meat and blood of cows only, and are greatly hated and feared by many. My family told me they are very “backward,” meaning they’ve refused to “become civilized,” and they wear no clothes.

I’ve never experienced hospitality as I have here in Uganda. My family was so excited to have me there, and I couldn’t even tell you how many visitors I had everyday! Everyone who lived near came to greet me, even if they spoke no English. They all bowed to me, as is proper in their culture (it was MUCH more traditional in Kapchorwa than here in the more urban areas). I felt so honored and welcome. At least 50 children that lived nearby came to see me, many everyday! Many children had rarely seen a mzungu and were so excited to see me and excitedly rubbed my skin and played with my hair to see what it felt like. One little girl who came to visit with me daily showed up one morning with yarn tied around her hair multiple times and some loose strands hanging down – her version of mzungu hair, as she told momma! It was sooo cute! The culture is more traditional, including with gender roles. Momma, Grace, and the niece Immaculate do all the cooking; it is customary that men never cook – to do so if disgraceful as it makes a wife seem that she is not doing her duties. In addition, only Papa and I (being the visitor) ate dinner at the table in the living room; Momma, Grace, and all the children ate outside in the kitchen. Papa is by no means unjust towards Momma, and it seemed that she truly served him in love, just as the things he did for her were done in love. Never have I eaten so much food. It’s not possible to just stop and say hi to someone, in fact that’s incredible culturally insensitive. Everyone you visit you must sit with and have at least tea and a snack, but very often “snack” is the size of a decent meal. I had to pace myself eating breakfast, which consisted of a chipote, five “ripes” (mini bananas), a boiled egg, 3 pieces of toast with Blue Band (the African equivalent of margarine, which I will certainly NOT miss), a couple handfuls of roasted G-nuts, and multiple cups of African tea (milk tea). To not finish a meal and eat a lot indicates that you’ve not accepted your host’s hospitality, so I spent the five days in a constant state of being overstuffed.

I spent a lot of time with the family that lived next door. They were somehow related to my family, but I’m not sure how (this happens pretty commonly here, and I can’t usually figure out just HOW people are related). Judith and her husband were pretty young – early 30s, and they had the three most adorable and good-natured children ever! She told me they woke up early every morning in anticipation of coming to see me. Martha is 5, Jonathon’s 3, and baby Martha is 2 months. Jonathon and I kicked a soccer ball around (football here) many times and had a blast. Judith told me that he almost died about a year ago – his entire body was swollen and when they took him to the clinic learned his kidneys weren’t functioning properly. He’s taking medicine and is doing much better. They are fortunate to have access to and to be able to afford medical care; the majority are not so fortunate. The two oldest played with their friends near my house all the time, dragging each other around in half a jerry can with a string attached (kind of like an improvised sled, but there was certainly no snow!). Speaking of snow, it got pretty cold in Kapchorwa since it’s up in the mountains, which was such a nice relief from the constant heat in Mukono. At night I slept in a sweatshirt with a blanket over me! Judith had me over to their mud hut my final night there and served goat meat, goat intestines (a delicacy, but certainly not my favorite – it’s like eating rubber, you never really stop chewing but just swallow), cabbage, and matooke of course. We sat and talked for awhile, and I really enjoyed being with her and her husband and kids. I gave the kids a yo-yo and paddle ball set I had brought from home, which really excited them. As I was saying goodbye and hugging everyone (and tearing up I might add), Judith grabbed me by the hand, looked straight into my eyes, and said, “I might not understand all about your life and the way you live, but one thing I do know. Hold onto Jesus no matter what, and never let go. He’s the only thing that really matters in this life.” Such simple yet profound words, spoken by a woman from a rural village in the mountains of Uganda whom I’d grown to deeply love. I left their home with tears in my eyes and wanting to stay longer with my newly-found family in Kapchorwa.

Something I wanted to do in coming to Uganda was kill a chicken, and I had the chance on my rural homestay! We came home from church on Sunday and I saw the hired hand holding a chicken in his hands. The family ushered me to a grassy area, where they laid the chicken on the ground and directed me to hold its neck. The chicken was struggling and trying to get loose as I plucked some of the feathers from its neck as directed. They handed me a dull knife, and told me to kill it. This was no big deal to them, but I was freaking out, which greatly amused the entire family who stood around watching. I raised the knife to the neck of the chicken (which was still struggling in my grip) and ran it across the neck, quickly realizing how hard I would have to slice to cut through the neck with the dull blade. I pressed harder and made a small cut, and the chicken struggled a lot. At that point I lost it. I screamed and let go of the chicken’s neck. The hired hand finished the job, and I watched the chicken squirm and suffer for about ten seconds. It was pretty gross, but I’m glad I had the experience while here. Killing it was only the beginning, though. From there we put the chicken in a basin and poured hot water on it to make the feathers come off easier. I helped remove all the feathers and the feet. Then Grace gutted the chicken. In their culture, the guest is honored by eating the gizzard. I’m not entirely sure what the gizzard does, but I saw the hundreds of small rocks it contained when Grace removed it from the chicken. I’m proud to say that when the chicken was cooked and served I ate the entire gizzard. It was like eating a big piece of softened rubber. Yummy! :) Oh, and the dog ate the fried chicken head, beak and all…yum! The dogs and cats normally eat matooke, rice, and whatever else the family gives them. Hehe.

Most people in Kapchorwa, including my family, grow coffee as their cash crop. They grow Arabica coffee, which grows on trees and look like red berries. One day I got to pick coffee with them! I saw a chameleon in one of the trees I picked from, which was so cool. I got some pretty good pictures. The next day we shelled the coffee, roasted it, and ground it – an incredibly intense and lengthy process! I ground the coffee with a big mortar and pestol, which took FOREVER! They gave me a huge container of coffee, which I hope will still be good by the time I get home so we can have it for Christmas!!

When I got to church on Sunday, I was directed to a chair to sit, kind of like being put on display, happened somewhat often in Kapchorwa. Within seconds a mob of children was surrounding me. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic, because they were just about on top of me rubbing my skin, playing with my hair, and asking over and over again “How are you?” (the one phrase in English every child knows, even if they know nothing else). I later learned most of the group of children around me were orphans who lived at a development center run by the church and that they were sponsored by Compassion International. In church the pastor announced that ten of the children were losing their funding. If you don’t know much about Compassion, check it out – it’s a really great organization that gives people in the West a practical way to help poor children around the world. Church on Sunday was five hours long!! I thought I might die – sitting on backless wood benches for that long is by no means comfortable!! One of the Compassion girls who really latched onto me sat in front of me and checked that I was doing everything in the service properly. At one point while the minister was praying, she saw that I had my eyes open and tapped me on the arm and said “Now you close your eyes and pray.” So cute. A guest speaker spoke on forgiving people for past wrongdoings, and multiple times she repeated the necessity of forgiving the Karamajjong for stealing cattle – that goes to show you how real their raids are!

On Tuesday I visited the school where Momma teaches – Kapteret Primary School. It was about a half hour walk down the mountain; the school consisted of about 10 one-level, very bare buildings with benches, desks, and chalkboards, and not much else. Over 700 children attend Primary 1 through Primary 7, and there are 14 teachers. At the first spotting of me walking near the building, the children were all clamoring to catch a glimpse of the mzungu through the window. I visited most of the classes and took pictures, as I was requested by the teachers. My entire time in Kapchorwa I was asked to take many pictures of some of the funniest poses – women cutting matooke, a man holding a tomato – cameras are obviously pretty rare. I sat in the headmaster’s office for a couple hours, where all the teachers came to greet me and the children were scolded for peeking in through the window. I sat for two hours with the headmaster and two male teachers, who asked me the most ridiculous questions! During my time in Kapchorwa I was asked a million absurd questions, which showed me that they really have very little idea what life in the USA is like. I was asked “Have you been to the moon?” “Are the streets made of glass?” “Do have dust?” “When you turn 13, are you made to take an oath and swear to never tell lies and defend America?” “When you get married isn’t it true that you sign a contract specifying how long your marriage will last?” …There were many more; the questions were somewhat amusing, but got pretty annoying after awhile, since people would sit for hours on end asking them. Also, everyone was amazed that a mzungu knew how to do any work – when I passed by people carrying a jerry can or while grinding coffee everyone laughed and asked how I knew to do work. They really think that machines do everything for us. A crowd of about 30 kids followed me home.

I was sad to leave my family in Kapchorwa, and they were very sad to see me go. They begged our program director to let me stay a few more days. It’s customary for them to send visitors away with a chicken, but I explained to them that it wouldn’t last the couple days more we’d be traveling before coming back to Mukono. I was offered three chickens and a huge bundle of matooke, but convinced them a huge bag of passion fruit (the greatest stuff in the world) and a container of freshly-ground coffee was more than enough.

After leaving Kapchorwa we drove through Soroti, where much of the flooding a couple months ago was the heaviest. Many bridges were still closed, and grazing land was so flooded it looked like a pond. We saw multiple helicopters fly overhead to do food drops, since people’s farms (their main food supply) have been flooded and relief agencies can’t access areas to get to them. Health officials are predicting outbreaks of diseases like cholera and typhoid as the waters recede. We visited an IDP camp (Internally Displaced Persons), where people go if they are not able to stay at their home due to conflict or natural disaster. IDP camps have received worldwide attention, as they tend to have poor food and water supplies, massive overcrowding, and prostitution and sex crimes are rampant as people are desperate for money. We met with a group of Peace Promoters who have been trained by Mennonite Central Committee in conflict resolution techniques that they’re putting to use in their communities. After that we headed to Sipi Falls, right next to Kapchorwa, for two days of relaxation, debrief, and hot showers! We had a worship service on the top of a mountain – so beautiful, but I was definitely winded by the time I reached the top!

I was so excited to come back home to my family in Mukono after being away for ten days. I felt missed, especially by Enoch. The day I got back he hung out in my room with me for awhile, smiling and laughing. At one point I headed towards the back door to go out to the pit latrine, and he ran to me, screamed, wrapped his arms around my legs, and looked up with a sad pussy face. I guess he thought I was leaving again, and he did not approve. This week is really busy with classes and tons of papers and schoolwork. I woke up missing home more than I ever have this morning, but getting on campus and reading e-mails and blog comments from people at home and talking to my family on the phone really lifted me up and made me feel a lot better. Thank you so much! I’ll be home in six weeks from today! It seems crazy that I’ve been here for a little more than ten weeks – in some ways I feel like time’s flown by and in other ways I feel like I’ve been here forever.

Rafting and Loving Life in Uganda!!!

Rafting this weekend was insane!! There were 9 of us in a raft, plus a Ugandan guide. We were out on the Nile all day, during which we went down about 8 rapids. Some were calmer than others, but we went down 3 class 5 rapids (to demonstrate how intense class 5 is: I’m not sure you’re even allowed to do class 5 in the States!). One that we went down was literally a 20 foot plus waterfall – straight down. It was awesome!! Our boat didn’t flip until the last rapid of the day. It was a huge rapid and really long. We got out of the raft and carried it past the first part of the rapids, because it was a class 6 and looked insanely dangerous. Then we started on the last part of the rapids, with our guide warning us that the raft flips 95% of the time. Before setting out on our journey we had been trained in what to do if the raft flipped, how to turn it back over and get back on. So most of us were pretty pumped about going down the final rapids, with a couple a little wary. We set out, paddling hard to the right. The boat went down the first wave sideways, and we found ourselves at the base of a huge wave, at least 20 feet high. At that moment it was instantly clear to me there was no way we would get through without flipping, and sure enough the wave broke over us and flipped the raft. It all happened so fast, and I guess mentally I was prepared because somehow I managed to hold onto my paddle! The current was really strong and jerked me around under water for a good 5 seconds at least, though in my mind it seemed like sooo much longer because I hadn’t had a big breath before going under and I really had no control over my body because of how strong the rapids were, and I couldn’t see where was up. I just told myself to relax and that I would surface soon, since I had a life jacket on. Sure enough I did surface, and took the biggest breathe of my life! I looked to my left and saw what looked like another series of rapids, which turned out to be the current leaving the rapids. But my thought was “Oh wow, I don’t want to get tossed around in that!” so I swam to my right as hard as I could, where one of the rescue guys in a kayak found me and I swam to the raft and was pulled back in. It was sooo much fun! Though my arms are still pretty tired a couple days later – we rafted all day. We stopped for lunch on a small island in the middle of the Nile where they had awesome cold cut sandwiches with lots of vegetables and potato salad prepared for us! Something else funny was that as we rowed down the Nile there were many local people on the side either washing clothes, swimming, or bathing in the river – and many were stark naked!

It’s hard to try to convey all my experiences to you here in my blog, because there’s so many new things and experiences. One thing I forgot to tell you is really important – my tribal name given to me by my family! My family is of the Kobu clan of the Baganda tribe (the largest tribe in Uganda and located in the central area), and my name is Naiga. It means a certain type of grass. My family occasionally calls me Naiga, and I’ve encouraged them to do it more often, especially because last week Momma was teasing me that I don’t remember my name, and I insisted that I did. This may sound silly, but one night last week I said goodnight to Momma, who in reply said “Goodnight Joelle.” Without even thinking, my response was “My name’s not Joelle, it’s Naiga.” I marked in my calendar the exact date and time I said that – October 18, 2007 at 10:28 PM, mostly because it was so symbolic to me. I really do feel like I’m part of the family and like I belong there, and I think that moment was the point where I completely felt that way and acknowledged it.

Last Wednesday we had dinner at the home of one of the mzungu missionary couples. He is an American and she a Brit, and they have two young, adorable children. Their home is pretty Western looking – one of the nicest on campus – and they ordered pizza and mac and cheese from NY Kitchen and…..BROWNIES and COFFEE!!! What a treat that was! We sat around and talked, played board games, and watched some of The Lion King because we’d been singing the songs all weekend on our safari. It was so much fun and a great get-away, which is definitely very necessary sometimes.

Something which I’ll definitely miss when I go home is chicken on a stick. You’re probably thinking, “what?!?!?” – when you pass through a town there are tons of men carrying cooked meat on a stick who run to your windows to sell it to you if you stop your vehicle. It’s so cheap – usually 500 shillings for beef or 1500 for chicken (a dollar is 1750 shillings, so they cost less than a dollar!). The meat is so juicy and tender.

I’ve become very close to my host sister Ritahh – we spend many nights up late talking. During our nightly prayers as a family after dinner we’ve prayed for her to get school fees, and I’ve noticed her crying a couple nights. When I asked her about this, she told me that her father was forced to close his shop a couple months ago. Her family has 5 children, 4 of which are school age, and this term her parents could only afford to completely pay the school fees for 2 of them. They could only pay half her school fees. Because of this she was refused entrance to school. She’s never treated me like a rich mzungu and I highly doubt would ever ask me for money (many other people upon first meeting me ask for money and have no interest in getting to know me or developing a relationship, which is hard to deal with and sometimes really annoying and hurtful). So, I only knew all this about Ritahh’s school fees because I asked her. Her school fees are 140,000 shillings for a term – the equivalent of $80, and she could only afford half!!! I was able to help her out, which was really great and felt a lot better than just sending money through some organization to a person I don’t know, especially with all the criticisms, problems, and dependence created by poorly-used development funds we’re learning about here. (I’ll post a thought-provoking update about poverty and our responsibility as Christians to address it in a few weeks; right now we’re reading “Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger” for a class, and I’m excited to share what I’m learning and how I’m being challenged with you.)

I’ve gone into Kampala 4 times in the past 6 days to do craft and dress shopping, since prices will probably skyrocket during CHOGM (Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting) in late November. CHOGM is a big deal for Uganda – the Queen of England as well as tons of other government heads will be here, and Kampala has undergone MAJOR renovations and tons of money has been spent. Roads have been repaved, the airport in Entebbe has had a serious facelift, and there’s signs all over Kampala that say “We’re ready for CHOGM…are you?” We all joke about being ready for CHOGM, and during rafting everytime we successfully conquered a rapid our team chant was “1,2,3…READY FOR CHOGM!!!” which made everyone on the other boats laugh. I bought the coolest dress in Kampala yesterday. It’s a Nigerian style dress – long wrap skirt and flowy shirt; it’s a deep blue with gold and white flower embroidery. The coolest part is the head wrap! My family told me I’m officially a true African, which is further validated by the fact that upon inspection of my just-washed clothes yesterday Momma told me I’ve conquered the task of washing clothes by hand! Phew!

My trip into Kampala yesterday was the most interesting by far. The shop where I found my dress was near the taxi park and hordes of people, which was interesting walking through. Then, Sarah (one of the other IMME girls) and I were sitting in a taxi waiting to leave Kampala and head home after buying my dress, and I was sitting by the window that was cracked open a couple inches. All of a sudden a hand was reaching in and grabbing my phone! I held on tight and tugged, and he eventually ran away. I know this probably doesn't give you warm fuzzies, but really that could happen in any city, and I've never had anything happen that made me feel in danger or like something would get stolen. Needless to say, my earring got pulled out of my ear, and I'm pretty proud of myself that I managed to react quickly and hold onto my phone!! Please, don't worry about me; I'm fine, and know better than to talk on the phone in public here - I usually wouldn't.

We leave on Friday morning for our rural homestays! We’re going to Kapchowra, about 4 hours from Mukono. It’s supposed to be very beautiful there – the village is on the side of a mountain and overlooks a vast plain! The village will be much more rural, as 85% of Uganda is, so we’ll get a taste of how most Ugandans live that we haven’t had yet. 85% of Ugandans are subsistence farmers, which I’m sure the family I stay with will be. We’re told our families won’t have electricity at all, and many may have never seen a mzungu (or very rarely), so we’ve been told to expect more stares than usual. (And people asking to touch our skin or hair – mzungu skin and hair is so different and they love touching it!) We’ll be gone until Sunday, Nov. 4th, so I won’t be on the internet until after then. Check for exciting updates about my experience living in rural Uganda after then!

I got an envelope from Mrs. Schreck and the children’s church at Faith!!! It was a huge banner with all their names signed and “God Bless You Joelle” in big letters. I cried when I opened it; it meant so much to receive that and made me feel so special and loved! It’s hanging on the wall of my room at home! Thank you so much Mrs. Schreck and all the kids!!!!

Papa and Judy – Glad to see you’ve visited my blog again; sorry to worry you after not having updated for so long! Thanks so much for your comments and your prayers; they mean more than I can explain. I love you and miss you!

I love and miss you all! Thanks for your continued support, prayers, and encouragement!

Safari - Lions and Hippos Galore!!

Our safari this weekend was sooo awesome!! The drive to Queen Elizabeth National Park took about 7 hours. Saturday morning we woke up really early to go out on our game drive, and quickly discovered that though we were told you could not reserve a guide, nothing is really as they tell you here in Africa. So three hours later we finally went out with a guide, being told not to expect to see much because early mornings are better than late. Boy, were they wrong! We saw a couple herds of elephant, tons of cobb, baboons (which are very strong and dangerous!) and….a lion and lioness!!! The lions were less than 20 feet from our van and were so regal. Apparently it’s mating season, because they did the dirty multiple times…needless to say the guys in our group found that pretty amusing and rehashed it throughout the weekend, with us girls rolling our eyes. Saturday afternoon we went on a boat ride on the Kazinga Channel, a natural channel that joins Lake George and Lake Edward. It was soo cool! We were feet from tons of hippos and water buffalo, and saw crocodiles, monitor lizards, and countless species of exotic, crazy looking birds. Apparently male water buffalo fight each other, and the loser is exiled from the herd. We saw 5 or 6 “losers” on the edge of the lake, waiting to die! They just stay there until they get attacked by something and killed or get stuck in the mud. How sad! I guess that’s natural population control for you! There are a number of tribes that live in the park because they were there before it was made a park, and one of the tribes lives along the lake and fish for their livelihood. Minutes after passing by huge hippo, water buffalo, and crocodiles, we saw some of the village kids swimming in the very same water! The guide said crocodile attacks are common. We camped on a site in the park at the top of an incline only a couple hundred feet from the lake. There were no fences around the site, and all day and night tons of warthogs wandered around our tents and grunted and growled! It was frightening to wake up to the sound of a warthog grunting just outside the tent, but nothing compared to the second night when hippos wandered around our tents!! The whole group woke up around 1:30 AM Saturday night to the sound of hippo growling that sounded way too close. We all conversed and quickly realized the hippos were outside our tent, seeing their shadows! Needless to say, we all freaked out a bit and didn’t sleep too much that night. Hippos are herbivores, but they’re really vicious and won’t hesitate to tear a person apart. What an experience that was! Dad, I honestly didn’t give it much thought when you said camping in the park would be interesting, with all kinds of animal noises….boy were you right! The park was so beautiful – the savannah lands are just like you see on National Geographic…or the Lion King :). In the backdrop are huge mountain ranges which border the Congo and are always veiled in misty clouds…so beautiful. I had such a great time and was so grateful to get to see all I did.

Classes are going well this week – busy with lots of papers. This Friday I’ll go into Kampala for some craft shopping and Saturday we’re heading to Jinja to raft the River Nile on class 5 rapids!!! Woohoo!

Happy Ugandan Independence Day!!!
Today marks 45 years since freedom from Britain, yet things I’m learning and experiencing here make me wonder just how much control the West has truly relinquished. So much remains in the society as remnants and reminders of colonial rule…from simple things like tea every morning and afternoon when I get home from school, to ethnic conflicts which were preyed on by the colonists and which African leaders failed to mitigate and which continue to create unrest and hinder democratic development, to the economic underdevelopment which necessitates 50% of Uganda’s budget consisting of foreign aid. In addition, many policy decisions here which may not really be the best are made because of pressure from foreign donors and organizations such as World Bank and IMF. This year marks the 21st year of President Museveni’s rule, which for those who don’t know, within the past decade especially has been marked by constitutional abuses of power to an extreme. In 2001 Museveni had Parliament overthrow the constitutional limit of two 5-year presidential term limits so that he could continue to rule; it’s clear that the election that year was rigged such that while his opponent won a majority Museveni remained in power. The Ugandan military is loyal to Museveni rather than to the state, and he has insisted that he is the only man with the vision to the lead the country, and even if he were to have power taken from him he would fight for it back. So you can see that today is a step farther from British colonial oppression, Uganda still has a long journey to traverse on the path of democratization.

I’m sorry that I haven’t written in SOOO long…things have been sooo busy here, and it’s hard to get on the internet for long periods of time. I can only go online during weekdays while I’m on campus, most of which time is occupied with class and doing schoolwork. I have to walk home before it gets dark, so I leave campus by 6:15 everyday. I can’t really get homework done at home, because I have responsibilities helping cooking dinner there and things are too busy and loud at home to do work. That plus the frequent power outages which shut the network down make it hard to get on the internet for long periods of time. I carted my laptop home, down the big hill and back up, to type this blog entry to post the next time I have internet access, because I realize it’s been so long since I’ve posted!

Everything is incredible here. I don’t even know where I can begin to relate my experience. It’s been busy, busy, busy everyday since my last post. It’s hard balancing my school work with time with my family, especially since most weekends are busy traveling. My birthday was great – thank you for all the wishes; I definitely felt loved and missed on my birthday :). A group of us went into Kampala the Friday before my birthday and had lunch at a restaurant called New York Kitchen. It was sooooo good!!! I had the creamiest mac and cheese ever, a chocolate milkshake, and a cinnamon roll. We were so spoiled that day with our American food…it was awesome!! The weekend of my birthday I attended a 50th Wedding Anniversary party. It was held in the huge hall on campus – there must have been around 500 people there. There was sooo much food – and it just kept coming! There were African traditional dancers and drums for entertainment – the grass skirts they shake while they dance were somewhat amusing! The day of my birthday we went to church in the morning and then to a graduation party, which was long-especially considering that it was hours of thanks and speaking in Luganda!

The last weekend in September the IMME group went into Jinja – about an hour away and the 2nd biggest city in Uganda. It is the source of the Nile, and it’s absolutely beautiful. We stayed at Kingfisher Safari Resorts, which was beautiful and right on the banks of the lake that feeds into the Nile. We went on a canoe ride to the beginning of the Nile on a rickety handmade canoe carved out of a tree. It was beautiful, and along the way we saw monkeys in the trees and tons of exotic birds! We ate at a restaurant that serves Indian and Italian food (what a combination, huh?). I had pasta carbonara, which was soooo good. I realized I’m telling you about everytime I have American or familiar food – it’s because it’s really that exciting and that much of a treat! It’s not that I don’t like the food here, but I certainly get sick of matoke, rice, beans, and potatoes.

The past four weeks have been incredibly rewarding – frustrating at times, but so worth it. I’m loving being with my host family. I feel very at home with them and close to them. I often help make dinner at night – cutting vegetables most often, which can actually be a challenge done with only the dull blade of a knife (no handle) and no cutting board, but just a bowl. I sometimes miss the luxuries of home, but more my family and friends than anything else. I’ve had a couple frustrating days where I’m just exhausted from cross-cultural interaction and sick of always being stared at for being a mzungu, and in those times I try to be really good to myself – find a place where I can just be alone or with other Americans. (And my chocolate stash always makes me feel better! :) )Thankfully, those days are pretty rare. I’ve also learned that sometimes it’s okay to do the culturally inappropriate thing and not stop and have a lengthy conversation with someone I pass – if I really don’t think I’m up for it that day I don’t stress myself out too much about it. Getting phone calls, letters, packages, e-mails, and comments from you all at home has been great and really helped me not to get homesick.

Our housemaid came down with malaria two weeks ago and was really sick. She looked miserable and had no appetite. I woke up early one morning to the sound of tons of wailing and screaming in Luganda, following which she was rushed to the hospital. We visited her there to bring food, which was an experience I won’t forget. Metal frame beds were just lined up next to each other with only a foot or two between, no machines near the beds or anything, and no food is provided. So if a patient’s family doesn’t bring food and come feed and care for them, they don’t eat. We sat on a mat on the floor next to Barbara’s bed. She looked really drugged up and out of it. Most of the time we didn’t talk; we didn’t need to. That is one thing I really love about Ugandan culture – silences aren’t awkward and people feel no need to fill them. Someone’s presence is enough, and just being with someone is greatly appreciated. She spent a few days in the hospital and then recovered at her family’s home for a week. She returned to our house yesterday.

One of the other students who lives on campus stayed with me at our house for her two week homestay. Erica and I had tons of fun, and I really liked having a roommate again. The last night she was with us we brought home pizza, mac and cheese and cinnamon rolls for our host family! They’d never had American food, and they LOVED it! Musumba ate two pieces of pizza and then was holding his stomach and saying how full he was and remarking on how quickly American food fills you up. He usually eats a lot, so we were teasing him telling him that in America a college male could down an entire pizza on his own! Elisha and Ritahh especially loved the food. They don’t really eat cheese here, but they all loved the cheese. Musumba was the only one who didn’t like the cinnamon rolls – he said they were too sweet. That didn’t surprise me; the sweets they do have here aren’t as strong as ours, which is true for most food: our food is much richer and stronger in taste.

This past weekend was great. Friday was graduation at UCU; over 500 people graduated. The guest of honor was Lord Rev. George Carey, the former archbishop of Canterbury. He spoke in community worship on Thursday, which was great. He spoke on the line “Your Kingdom Come” in the Lord’s Prayer and of the tension that exists in having dual citizenship in the Kingdom of God and in this earthly kingdom, and that the Kingdom of God is NOT just something to look forward to in the future – Jesus sought to bring in a new regime and kingdom in this life. So, he insisted, praying “Your Kingdom Come” is in fact a very dangerous petition. We are called to participate in the work of the kingdom; where there is injustice, hatred, strife, we are called to make Christ known and work for change. We are called to be vision-bearers; he gave the example of Martin Luther King, Jr., Gandhi, the former archbishop of Uganda who was assassinated by dictator Idi Amin, and Nelson Mandela. His message was simple, yet extremely challenging, and fits in so well with what I’ve been learning academically and spiritually the past 2 semesters – between the American Studies Program and here in Uganda.

Friday we finished our first book for the core course, Bishop John Taylor’s book on Christian Presence amid traditional African culture and religion. It was really interesting and incredibly thought provoking. He talks a lot about the universal and particular – those things which are universally true for the practice of Christianity across the board and those things which must be considered according to culture. For example, polygamy is a huge issue here in Africa. We have read that in traditional Africa, men who had many wives that they were able to provide for were respected and seen as being of high status. The clash of the Christian worldview and the African traditional worldview is seen in the tension regarding polygamy. We have read the account of Omodo, an African man with three wives. Upon his encounter with Western missionaries, his response was that the Bible contains accounts of polygamous marriages, and that in the West we have serial marriages in the common practice of divorce, which to him is a much greater evil than polygamy. The stance which the Christian church in Africa has taken is that polygamy should not by practiced by Christians. My host father is a pastor, and I have been privileged to have lengthy, informative discussions with him concerning this matter. He himself is the child of a polygamous father, and when his father became a Christian he left all his wives but one. The children of those wives he left, of which my father is one, were raised by their paternal grandmother and aunt. My host dad informed me that he would counsel a polygamous Christian man to do the same, being certain to emphasize that all the children of those wives must be cared for, and that such practice is accepted in the church. However, the response of the Christian church to African traditional religious and cultural practices raises some significant issues. The decision of one man to convert to Christianity could alter the livelihood of those wives he leaves, many of whom likely have no way of providing income for themselves. In addition, often the children whose mothers are left are then not raised by their mothers, which seems unfair to both children and mother. I’m unsure whether the practice of polygamy is an issue which is universal or particular in nature, that is, whether it should universally be seen as unacceptable for Christians, or whether it is an issue which must be considered within the context of each particular culture. One fact of which we can be certain is that the Biblical teaching holds us responsible to care for the children which we bring into existence, which seems to be practiced in those polygamous marriages which break up due to conversion to Christianity.

After class on Friday the IMME group went into Kampala for one of our trips to see intercultural ministry and missions in practice. We stopped along the way and had sandwiches!!! They weren’t the greatest, but they were cold cuts nonetheless, and believe me, none of us had the slightest complaint! We visited Engineering Ministries International, which was really cool. They are engineers who serve in ministry with their skills – drawing up plans for and carrying through to completion building and engineering projects here and in other Third World countries. They fly in professionals from the U.S. to complete the work. Dad, I thought of you the whole time – you would have loved to have seen some of the work they’ve done. I was so excited seeing it all there, and found myself thinking of the questions you’d be asking – I asked the woman what kinds of zoning regulations and building codes they have here, to which her response was “not many, though there are some, and they are rarely monitored and enforced.” After that we visited with International Justice Ministries’ office in Kampala. If you haven’t heard of them, they’re a really great organization of mostly lawyers that work in many countries around the world for social justice issues. In Uganda they’re focusing their efforts on property-grabbing – when a widow dies all her property and possessions are often seized by her husband’s relatives, leaving her with nothing and often homeless with no income. Very little is done about this, which is pretty common, because most people can’t afford legal help and the system is so corrupt. IJM is working to change this and seek justice for widows.

On Saturday I attended an introduction ceremony, which is the traditional part of a wedding. It was an incredibly elaborate and expensive ceremony, with over 300 people in attendance and TONS of food!!! Here men pay a bride price for the bride, because it is considered a great loss to her clan when she marries into another clan, so the bride price is paid to compensate for the loss. You would not believe all that was brought as a bride price paid to the brides family…a cow, goat, chicken, new dining room table and chairs, suitcase, over 80 baskets of food and bags of coffee, and MORE….it was crazy!!!! The ceremony was in Luganda, so I didn’t understand what was going on, but from what I gathered it was pretty funny. There were two MCs-one from each side that speak for each side of the family. I wore the traditional Baganda dress, called a gomez – a long dress with pointy shoulders and a big belt tied. It’s really hard to walk in, and walking there everyone on the road stopped and stared at me, many laughing, saying “Mzungu in a gomez!” They thought it was the funniest thing. Momma informed me that I wasn’t big enough to wear the gomez, so she loaded me up with all kinds of clothes under the skirt to give me a bigger butt and waist!! She wrapped a blanket around me, and I also had on a slip and skirt. If I can ever get a connection that allows me to upload pictures, I’ll be sure to post some.

I have been surprised to see the sexual ethics practiced here in Uganda, a largely Christian nation. The couple whose introduction I attended already has three children together! The couple professes to be Christians and is part of a Christian community. Upon my shock at learning this fact, I asked my host mother if such an instance was common. Her response was that it was very common and acceptable for everyone but pastors. So, she explained that my host father, who is a pastor, and she did not live together until after both their introduction ceremony and church wedding. The reason behind such a practice as my host mother explained it is that it is unacceptable to not have a large wedding with many guests in attendance. Such weddings are, of course, very expensive, and many couples must save for years to be able to afford such an extravaganza. In addition, the African worldview seems to see the birth of children as the consummation of marriage, so within that context it seems more acceptable that two people who have children together are of the mentality that they are “married” in that they are committed to each other raising children. While it is true that in the West we too often hold our ministers and leaders to higher standards than we hold ourselves and the general public, I do not believe such unequal standards are appropriate or measure up to the Biblical call. We are all to strive to live holy lives.

On Sunday we went into Kampala and visited Kampala Pentecostal Church. Walking into the sanctuary was like being at home – worship was very contemporary and felt just like being at Faith! I cried through a couple of the songs in worship because it made me think of home so much. The speaker was a Canadian evangelist; most of his message centered around family structure, and I wondered if any of the message was relevant to the Ugandans, whose family structure greatly differs from ours in the West. In some ways it seemed like cultural insensitivity and ignorance that he was speaking. Afterwards we ate bagels, eggs with cheese, chocolate shakes, and cinnamon rolls at New York Kitchen….always such a treat! Daddy, I’ve thought often of how much I miss your cheesy egg sandwiches…I think I’ll want one everyday when I get home :)

There’s been a big trade fair – kind of like a county fair at home – going on in Kampala, and on Independence Day we took a taxi in to go. I can’t even explain to you how many people were there – you had to shove through people everytime you wanted to move! And Ugandans don’t really have any sense of personal space – they don’t mind being pushed and shoved to get through; it’s just what you do! There were lots of craft shops, food stands, games, and a couple rides at the fair. The crafts were much cheaper than at the craft fair in Kampala, so I stocked up. Relating to the issue of personal space, this is definitely a huge difference from American culture. One thing I’ve learned very well is that there’s ALWAYS room for more people on a taxi! (Which is not a taxi like in the states, but a matatu – a van made to seat 14 people). Usually there’s 4-5 people in seats made for 3, and often people are sitting half on the person next to them. I was in a taxi the other day with 20 people in it, and that’s not the most I’ve seen!
The knuckles on both my hands are RAW and the skin worn away from doing laundry this morning. I’ve decided that without a doubt the thing I miss most is a washing machine. Washing clothes is such an intense and lengthy process. It took me an hour and a half this morning to wash a towel, 10 pairs of underwear, 2 pairs of pants, and 5 shirts. And let me tell you, it is not fun scrubbing the nasty mud out!!

Everyone at home’s been sick the past couple days, and I’ve come down with a cold as well. Thankfully, my doctor sent me with antibiotics so I’m feeling a lot better. I haave had trouble sleeping the past couple nights though.

We’re going on a safari this weekend!! I’m soooo excited. We leave Friday right after our class gets out at 10:30. It’s a 7-8 hour drive to Queen Elizabeth National Park, where we’ll camp out and go on the game drives and a boat launch. I’ll update you on that when I return. I miss you all, and thank you so much for your e-mails, comments, thoughts and prayers. My parents have told me everyone who’s asked about me and said they’re praying for me, and it means more than I can explain. I’m sorry I haven’t updated you as often as either of us would like; I’m going to do my best to post more often despite power outages and the busyness of class and family life so that when I finally get the chance to they’re not as long as this one!! I still can’t figure out a way to post pictures; I think the connection is just too slow. Hope all is well at home!

Back from Rwanda and beginning classes!!!

We arrived back in Mukono Monday evening after our 10-day trip to Rwanda. WOW. What an INTENSE, challenging, and valuable trip that was. I'm not even sure how to describe all that I saw, learned, and experienced. We left EARLY Sat. morning Sept. 1st- 5:30 AM!!! Yuck...which was made worse by the fact that I didn't get much sleep the night before-I spent the last night hanging out with Heidi, because she flew home to the States so it was the last day I'd get to spend time with her. They weren't really sure what was wrong with her, and she needed an MRI. Since there's not a single MRI machine in the country, they figured it was best for her to go home. So that was a sad goodbye, and I felt really bad for her that she spend a week and a half here and then had to fly home without spending much time here. The trip to Gahini, Rwanda took about 12 hours, with about 3 hours total stopped at the Equator, then for lunch, and at the border. We passed through some incredibly rural areas - places where homes were just mud huts with thatched roofs, and some incredibly far from any other homes or any semblance of a "town." My first impression of Rwanda was how incredibly beautiful it was - it's not called the land of a thousand hills for no reason!! It is hilly EVERYWHERE-the capital city is even a bunch of hills and the interlaying valleys. I also immediately realized how much more organized and maintained Rwanda is compared to Uganda. The roads are kept much better, traffic is so much more organized and orderly, and it was so clean!

We spent the first couple days in Gahini. The guest house we stayed at was on the top of a mountain, at the bottom of which was a big lake. Sunday morning I visited the Cathedral church at the top of the mountain along with 3 others - Emily, Danny, and the intern Dana. What an experience that was!!! The service was not in English but was in Kinyarwandese, but a couple of the songs were sung in English and a man a couple years older than me, Stephen, sat next to me and in English sometimes told me what was going on. It was an Anglican church (as are many of the churches we'll be visiting since that is the predominant denomination here and the University is Anglican), so the service was liturgical. However, it was MUCH more charismatic than ANY Anglican/Episcopal service I've ever been to in the States, and more charismatic than MANY Pentecostal services I've been too! Three different choirs sang multiple times each throughout the service - one adult choir and two young people's choirs. They were incredible!! - tight harmonies, and some were acapella, though some were sung to the beatboxing rythyms that were recorded on the keyboard, which us Americans found slightly amusing. It seems that everyone can sing - and singing and dancing is so much a part of the African culture. Towards the end of the service a huge group of people, including the four of us and the MANY, MANY children gathered at the front of the sanctuary and danced, jumping up and down and singing praise songs. It was fun! The hymn books used during the service didn't have any music, just the words. I recognized a couple of the tunes and quietly sang along in English under my breath, as even staring at the words in Kinyarwandese I had no idea how to pronouce them. Danny preached in the service, which was translated by one of the pastors. During the service the four of us sang in English - we sang Here I Am To Worship and a couple other songs; I played keyboard to accompany. I was surprised that few people spoke English - In Uganda mostly everyone speaks English and Luganda or their tribal language, but in Gahini few spoke English. This was explained to me - education in Uganda beginning all the way with primary school is in English; this is not the case in Rwanda. After the service the pastors and some leaders from the church - four of whom were quite elderly - took us to lunch at the bottom of the mountain at an extension of the guest house owned by the diocese right along the lake. They were incredibly gracious people, and we had such a great time with them sharing and encouraging each other in the Lord. At the end of the meal there was about an hour's time during which each person stood and shared something. They spoke about how grateful they were for our visit to their congregation, what an encouragement it was for them to see us young people really loving and serving the Lord, and how grateful they were that the children and young people in their congregation were able to see us serving the Lord. It was a very humbling experience to hear each one of the nine or so people go on about what an honor it was to host us. They asked us to sing again for them, which we did. We sounded pretty good - we're all great singers, so that was fun. We asked them to sing for us, so the four eldest people sang in Kinyarwandese. It was really cool. They are extremely respected and seen as very wise, as is the African culture, so it was an honor to sit and hear them talk about the work of the Lord in their lives, in the community, and in finding healing after the genocide.

The next day we met with the Bishop of the Gahini Diocese, who gave us a historical account of his people leading up to the genocide. I've read a decent amount about the Rwandan genocide and I've seen the movie Hotel Rwanda, but I'm ashamed to say that I was somewhat shocked to hear him implicate the European colonizers as harshly as he did for inciting the divisions that led to the genocide. Here's a basic summary of the events leading up to the genocide, which I learned through readings I did the week I was in Rwanda and experiences while in the country: Rwanda was originally colonized by the Germans, who handed it over to the Belgiums after World War I. There had always existed within Rwandan society three socio-economic groupings, the Tutsi, Hutu, and Twa. The Tutsi raised cattle, the Hutu cultivated the land and grew crops, and the Twa were peasants. Intermarriage of people in differing groupings was common, and social mobility was achievable. People were able to change their socio-economic status by doing well for themselves and increasing their wealth, by marriage, or by decreasing their wealth. These WERE NOT ethnic divisions, and could not be classified as such because the people shared a common language and culture and lived in the same geographic area, and are thought to be of the same heritage. So, everyone lived peaceably, with no trace of discord among the socio-economic classes....UNTIL the arrival of the Europeans. In the 1930s the Belgians forced every Rwandese to carry an ID card designating whether they were Hutu or Tutsi. The Belgians determined who was which in this manner: anyone who owned 10 or more cows was Tutsi, while everyone with less than 10 cows was Hutu. The Belgians proceeded to create a Tutsi ruling class, endowing them with power so the Belgians could accomplish indirect rule. In essence, the Belgians created an ethnic divide among peoples of the same nation and ethnicity, fueling hatred and divisions by initiating Tutsi rule. Within the next two decades, the Belgians incited the Hutu majority by stirring up frustration at their lack of power. The Belgians turned on the Tutsi minority, leading a Hutu uprising and infusing churches which had been planted by the Europeans with liberation theology to encourage the Hutu that they deserved to have power. So an environment of hatred an unrest had been created by the Europeans, which beginning in the 1950s led to a series of uprisings and mass murders. Hundreds of thousands of Tutsi fled the country, settling in camps in neighboring countries, where they plotted their revenge. I'm obviously leaving out a lot of detail, and I'll skip a large time period and come to April 6, 1994, the day that president Habyarimana's plane was shot over the capital, Kigali, assumedly by Hutu extremists, beginning the 100 days of terror in which over a million Tutsi and Hutu moderates were brutally murdered. Within hours of the plane crash the genocide perpetrators had created roadblocks stopping people from escaping and had killed thousands. The atrocity of the genocide is appalling - propoganda was so effective that Hutu who had lived peaceably and in close relations with their Tutsi neighbors, wives, and children brutally murdered them! Yes, husbands murdered their wives and children! And the method of killing is numbing - the perpetrators used machetes and other garden tools to hack people to death, as well as other brutal techniques such as throwing people alive into pit latrines and throwing stones at them until they heard the screams stop. They also shot many people. So, there's my "quick" summary of the events leading up to the Rwandan genocide. Anyway, the bishop also talked to us about the East African Spiritual Revival, which occured beginning in 1935 and lasted into the 50s. During this time many people came to Christ and many new churches opened. We met with two elderly gentlemen who had been alive during the revival, who related their experience. They told us that public confession was a large part of the revival - men would stand in front of the community and openly confess sins, such as adultery with a man's wife.

From Gahini we moved on to the capital of Rwanda, Kigali. The city is beautiful, the roads are so organized and paved so well, and the city is so clean!!! The food was good at the guest house we stayed at, which was nice, but I definitely had bed bugs in the bed I stayed in!!! It was definitely very uncomfortable, but I complained very little and after the first night slept with long sleeves and long pants so I wouldn't get bit. (I know Dad, you're probably reading this with your mouth gaping open, thinking your princess must have relinquished her throne to think so little of something such as bed bugs and to sleep in the same bed for the next 4 nights...I'm certainly learning a lot here!!)

Tuesday morning we went to the house of a Quaker missionary, which was an incredible experience. She is extremely entrepeneurial and develops new farming methods and finds new crops that she can teach people in the community to improve health, the quality of life, and help people develop economically viable crops to sell in the market. (More than 85% of Rwandans are subsistence farmers and everyone grows their own foods) Her methods have been taught to tens of thousands of people in the area. Some of the things she showed us were "Farming God's Way," which involved covering the corn field with mulch, which fertilized the soil, extended its life, and produced crops more than twice the size usually yielded! She also grows molinga trees, the leaves of which contain all the essential daily vitamins and minerals a person needs. Many Rwandans, especially children, do not get anywhere near all the nutrients they need, so this tree is incredible! It also cures some sicknesses. She is encouraging people to grow these trees, but also has started her own business growing the trees and drying and grinding its leaves to sell in the market for a very cheap price which people can afford, so that most everyone can have the leaves to combine with other foods and get the essential nutrients. She also showed us a stove which has been developed which uses solar energy as opposed to coal, which can be expensive. She also spoke with us about a proper Christian response to poverty and the responsibility of Christians to respond to poverty. Ministry must be holistic and address all aspects of life.

Following that we visited a Catholic church in Nyamata where over 10,000 people were slaughtered by the Hutu militia while the victims were praying and seeking refuge in the church. This was an overwhelming experience. The front door was bent and broken where the militia had broken in to get to those hiding inside. The sheet over the alter was stained with the blood of those who had been kneeling before it in their final moments, and on top of the alter were the rosaries they had been praying on when they were murdered. A side room was overflowing with the clothing of the victims, and the stand which holds the Eucharist was covered in blood and marks where peoples' heads had been bashed. This was a dreadfully ironic sight - these people were massacred at the feet of the body and blood of Christ, which was bruised and spilt for us. Downstairs in the church and outside in underground vaults were thousands of bones of the victims - skulls and other bones lined up, one next to the other. Most people could not be identified, and many bodies were never found as they were buried or thrown into pit latrines. When a body is found in the vicinity, which still happens today - 13 years later, it is brought to this memorial. Seeing the remains of so many people is a jarring experience, and I also wondered if having their bones displayed in such a manner was truly honoring to them. I wondered this especially because in African culture they greatly value proper burial of the dead; we spoke with a couple Africans who felt similarly that perhaps this was not an honoring remembrance of the victims. To the left of the church was buried an Italian priest and nun, who were killed seeking to protect their congregants. Sadly, this was not the case in many situations - many priests opened the doors of their churches were their congregrants were hiding to the militia to be slaughtered - so deeply ingrained had the ideology become. A sign over the door of the church read in Kinyarwandese, "If you had know yourselves and if you had known me, you wouldn't have killed me." This quote is such an accurate reflection of the fact that the killers killed those who were truly not ethnically different from them and were their fellow Rwandans. Sadly, Christians were very involved in the killings - they killed each other and killed non-Christians. This was a point of discussion and reflection among our group and with speakers we met with - that Christian identity was not peoples' primary and first identification.

We then went to the Genocide Museum in Kigali. It is beautiful building and museum. Perhaps most striking were the pictures of slaughtered people, and the sections about the failure of the international community to respond despite their knowledge of the genocide. Despite the insistence of UN troop General Dallaire that more troops be sent in to Rwanda, the few troops that were stationed there were reduced to 260 men days into the genocide at the order of the UN General Assembly. The United States failed to respond. The world watched while more than a million people were murdered. At the end of his term, President Clinton stated that his greatest regret was his failure to intervene in Rwanda. Sadly, about only 5,000 troops would have been enough to save hundreds of thousands of lives and bring stability to the area. This fact is incredibly alarming: The French government sent thousands of guns to the Hutu militia weeks before the genocide began! Walking through the museum was an incredible emotional experience which I won't forget. Near one of the displays sat a Rwandese man who was sobbing. A display in the museum was dedicated to the children who were murdered. Pictures of some of them were on the walls, underneath which was listed their best friend, favorite toy and food, and then lastly, how they were murdered. They read things such as "macheted to death in her mother's arms," or "smashed against a wall." Such atrocities, and the world sat idly by while they were committed. Outside in the gardens were buried tens of thousands of unidentifiable victims in mass graves. I walked around the graves, which were surrounded by flowers and looked out upon the city, and prayed and reflected on all I had seen.

That night we met with two genocide survivors. Their stories of survival were incredible, and to hear of the difficulties they've surmounted was astounding. They told their stories with the help of a translator. The woman, Grace, was fifteen at the time of the genocide and was at a family gathering with more than 100 of her relatives when the Hutu militia attacked her home. Everyone was attacked and killed, and she was hit in the head with a machete. She buried herself under the dead bodies of her family members so the militia men would think she was dead, then escaped to hiding. She was found again and attacked, at which point she was thrown with others and some dead bodies into a pit latrine. Somehow she remained alive for three days, when someone heard her cries and rescued her. She was brought to the hospital, where she remained for months. Following her release, she became mother to 7 younger children, as so many children had been orphaned. While relating her story, Grace continually thanked God for His goodness and faithfulness. She praised Him for being her strength and what brought her through and thanked Him for enabling her to forgive those who had attacked her and murdered her family. I was humbled and inspired by her faith.

Wednesday was our day of relaxation and time to process all we had experienced so far, which was certainly a lot! We hung out at the Colline Hotel - which is the hotel portrayed in the movie Hotel Rwanda, where a man kept 1,000 people, saving them from death at the hands of the militia. Some of the group went swimming in the pool, which the survivors drank from to live. It was cool to be at the hotel after seeing the movie. We went to the shopping plaza nearby in downtown Kigali, where we had American food for lunch! I had a cheeseburger, and my friend had pizza. Neither were very good, but we were in no state to complain, but were rather extremely grateful for the taste of home! Believe me, eating matoke and rice gets old after only a few days - and we eat that for every meal! We also had coffee at a nice coffee shop that seemed to be the mzungu hangout. We also bought ice cream at a shop, which was such a treat! We certainly were spoiled that day.

That night we heard from the director of World Relief in Rwanda, a Christian organization. He told us about some of their development and health programs and talked a lot about the sustainability of the programs, which is a huge concern in the area of third world development. Programs must be developed that can continue after the Westerners leave. Thursday we visited an orphanage an hour outside of Kigali that was started by a 77-year old woman from Pennsylvania! I'm ashamed to say that she has more energy than I do, and her vision for these children and their future is awesome. She has 28 orphans living at 2 seperate homes and has just purchased land to build a children's complex which will also be of use to the community. The land is on the top of a huge hill and has an incredible view looking out on the surrounding areas. For the last hour we got to hang out with the kids, which was sooo cool!!!! They sang and did traditional dances for us, and we sang for them and taught them children's songs like "Jesus Love is a-bubbling Over," which we sang with them in the three parts. That was certainly memorable! I have a movie of us singing, which I'll post whenever I can find an internet connection that will let me upload it. We had a great day at the children's home, but some of us expressed concern over the sustainability of the operation. All the support funds come for her friends back in the States, and the home is not self-sustaining except for the small proceeds that come in from a chicken farm they run. So when she passes away, the funds will likely stop as often happens in situations like that.

Friday morning we visited the shop of Cards from Rwanda (CFR), which is a business started by a British Christian man doing business missions in Rwanda. CFR employs orphaned children that are the heads of homes and providers to younger siblings. Employees receive training in financial, spiritual, and other life issues. We saw paper made by hand - which is a lengthy process for sure, and saw the workers making the designs on the cards. The cards are beautiful, and I bought lots. I would encourage you to check out the website - http://www.cardsfromafrica.com/ - they're really nice and support an incredible cause. Shipping is free to the U.S. if you buy 5 or more cards. Chris, the man who began CFR, talked to us about business as mission and discussed business as being a viable solution to end poverty.

That night we heard from the Mufti, the Islamic leader of Rwanda. About 5% of Rwanda is Muslim. During the genocide, Muslims remained very unified and did not participate in the killings. We discussed this and bemoaned the fact that such unity was not present in the church.

Our final speaker was a Bishop, who spoke about the massive trauma that many Rwandans have been through and still struggle with. He spoke of the great need for qualified counselors, of which there are very few (he said one or two) in the country. He discussed the role of the church in reconciliation and the health of the church since the genocide.

I've been in the library for 4 hours and am still not done with this post and checking my e-mail because the connection's so slow! I have to be home before dark, so I'll end here for today and conclude my account of my trip to Rwanda tomorrow. I'll also try to upload pictures tomorrow-the connection here won't allow me to. Thanks for reading, and please don't take lightly what I've shared with you from my experience in Rwanda. Think and pray on it...for those who are not aware, genocide is happening again in Darfur, and the U.S. and the international community again has failed to respond. Until tomorrow, bye!