sipi falls

dance party in the living room. i think this was our breaking point.

potty stop/pickie opp in the bush on the way to safari.

story time with hannah and catherine.

this is where I be (as of tuesday). sipi falls. i'm sleeping in a treehouse at the foot of that cliff.

Ugh!

I have malaria again. Or I relapsed. Or it never went away and so I just still have it. I’ve been in this damn bed for 2 full days now and life is beginning to feel like a really uneventful dream.

I have four days left in this beloved country. Today I was thinking about how I have spent one sixth of the year in a different country. It’s weird. It’s not a mission trip or a trip of any sort at this point…it’s just life. I don’t really see the Ugandans as Ugandans anymore…we are all like a family now. And ya, that sounds cliché and sappy, but that’s just how it is. I have become best friends with Pastor James’ four-year old daughter Kim. Today she refused to go to school because she wanted to see me and give me cookies and drawings she made so I will feel better. We colored eachothers’ nails green this afternoon.


Last week’s visit to the hospital was heavy. There is this boy there named Dennis. Ten years old. Severely malnourished. This is the only way I can explain him: He looks like a piece of paper folded in half, propped up, when he is sitting in his bed. I don’t even know how he can sit up in his bed…the whole time I thought he was just going to collapse. His father Samuel is always there with him. They’ve been there for a month, during which Dennis hasn’t gained any weight. It breaks my heart. And it’s not fair. I want so badly for God to heal him because it seems impossible. When I came home from the hospital, I was angry and anxious. I was crying in my bed and I threw water bottles at the fan (because that solves something). But this week’s visit was severely different, characterized more by joy than by sadness. Dennis’ face looked different…brighter. When we entered the ward, he got up and walked to meet us, smiling. Involuntary tears! He gained one pound and the skin on his arm was peeling; his body finally had enough energy and nutrients to start renewing his skin. I think Dennis will make it.

We can’t feel sorry for Africa. Feel sorry for the incapable. The powerless. These people are anything but powerless: they are warriors, stronger and more able than you and me. To pity them is to dehumanize them, to underestimate their ability, their knowledge, their community. If we feel sorry for them, we are diminishing their hope and their love. And if there is one thing I have learned from life in Africa, it is NEVER underestimate love. Love never fails. It conquered death and sin and separation from our Creator. It is so strong and I hate that I have taken it too lightly. imate Love is fully alive and pulsing in Africa and it can surely heal the bleeding wounds of this beautiful continent. I do love this place.

I’m missing frozen yogurt.

i'm BORED.

at the Nile River

malaria is a beeze. it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. i have no energy even though i have slept for 2 days and i want to go do something but i can't because i'm too tired. and i'm over taking melatonin pills to make myself sleepy...thus, i have resorted to the sloth-esque internet to ease my cabin fever.

CORRECTION to the intern sickness report: Richelle only has typhoid. the sketch clinic lied to us...i think it's all a conspiracy...no one is sick...we are all fine.

Our school in the bush has been going very well. I am working with the youngest group, which proves challenging as they know NO english and the concept of learning is very foreign to them. For the past 2 days i have been in bed, so i am missing my children greatly. thankfully one of the COTN staff's daughter has been here at home...4 year old Ruth who also knows no english. she is beautiful and we taught her to give kisses on our cheeks. we just painted our nails together.

intern sickness report.

Elena: typhoid fever
Jenny: malaria
Richelle: malaria and typhoid fever
Jill: malaria
Scott: malaria
Me: malaria
Andrew: nada
Emma: nada

some snaps!

I am convinced that giraffes are dinosaurs.

Bridesmaids! We are looking so smart!

Baby with beads in Gulu.

Baby Lydia...i see her at the market every week.

The sky is angry and I think it's about to rain. The children have stolen my heart; they are lovely little thieves. It is hard to think of having only 2 weeks more in this beautiful place.

I'm a banana.

We taught our driver Jimmy to recite the "Rejected Cartoon" video on youtube..."my spoon is too big. my spoon is too big. my spoon is too big. I'm a banana!" I legitimately peed in my pants the first time he said it in a high pitched voice. If you don't know what I'm talking about, youtube it.
It’s been a while since I have blogged. Much has happened since the last post and it is hard to say that some thoughts and events are more important, more blog-worthy than others. This whole blog thing still seems narcissistic anyways. But I find that writing words that other people will read makes me actually think about what I am thinking.
Last week I visited a hospital in Lira to pray for people. I don’t think I have ever gone somewhere for the specific purpose of praying for people; it was a right feeling though. We started in the maternity ward where there were newborn babies (just minutes old) laying next to their mothers. Newborn African babies aren’t black…they are a strange reddish purple color. There were pregnant mommy’s with tears rolling involuntarily down their faces, ready to pop at any hour. I prayed for two mamas sitting on separate hospital beds. They were both sitting up facing each other; I crouched down in between them. The one on the left gave birth that day, but the baby died. She was all alone. Her eyes were heavy and sad and were tied to the ground. The one on the right had a healthy baby girl that day who she named Jane. She was beaming with her husband holding her hand and glowing alongside her. It is an uncomfortable feeling to pray for such furiously contrasting situations. I was scared to pray a prayer of joy in front of the mourning mother. But at the same time, it is beautiful. To know and claim that God is crying with the mother who lost a child and laughing with the new mother. Such contrast. God dwells in both.
From the maternity ward we moved onto the Malnourished Children’s ward. The kids there looked like shriveled up old people, kind of like E.T. actually. Wrinkled skin and bulging eyes. Maybe that’s insensitive, but it’s the closest thing I can compare it to. Their eyes looked like it was painful just to breathe. There was a 2 month old baby named Amy. Her mother died during child birth and now a “step mother” (who had her own infant strapped to her back) takes care of her. Amy was a tiny little thing, I thought she was a newborn. Death is so normalized here. It’s not that people aren’t sad or that they don’t mourn. It’s that death is so prevalent that they must choose joy. My Ugandan friend James explained it to me this way: You are happy because you are eating chicken. But then the rebel soldiers come and you can either drop the chicken and run or carry the chicken and run. You hold on to the chicken and run. And if you arrive to a safe place and find that you dropped your chicken, you are happy because you are alive. Hope is tenacious here in Uganda. We hopefully believe in a tenacious God.
I walked outside and stood in the courtyard in the middle of all the wards. I could hear the TB patients coughing and the children with malaria crying. My eyes welled over with tears. I was compelled to go pray for the patients who couldn’t afford a room inside the hospital. They sit under the mango trees, trying to keep cool in the shade. I prayed for three very pregnant mothers. I love pregnant mamas. I put my hand on their bellies and when I started to pray, the babies started moving fiercely, like a fish trying to swim in a bowl it has outgrown. They were responding to the Spirit and it was beautiful.
This weekend the interns went on safari. I took a nap on top of a boat as we floated down the Nile River towards enormous waterfall, surrounded by hippos and crocodiles. Woke up and did yoga. It was possibly the most relaxing experience of my life. We discovered a fresh deer carcass in an acacia tree and our friend Jimmy knew there was a lion nearby. He tells me he can smell a lion from far away, but I don’t know if I actually believe him. We ventured off the road into the bush, driving over a million little ant hills. I was sitting on top of the van on a mattress, peering through the bushes looking for this lion. We found the lion. A female. In a tree, hiding. She was panting, tired from hunting the deer. She was mesmerizing and I couldn’t believe we were so close to her (probably 40 feet away). It made me feel way more adventurous than I actually am. The safari was a lovely adventure. Creation is a stunning beast. God is undeniable.
This coming week we are starting a “school” for kids in the bush who can’t afford school fees. Most don’t speak any English and for many, tomorrow will be their first day of school so this should be interesting. I am extremely excited though. Sharon will be coming to this school. Mercy’s older sister will too. Pray for these kids.

Mercy on my back.

This week I accomplished a life goal: I carried an African baby on my back. It was every bit as great as I knew it would be. Her name was Mercy and she was 2 months old. A group of mothers (who are all about my age) tied her on to my back and I carried her with me as we visited the huts in a village that is set a little ways into the bush. A slobber spot spread out on the back of my shirt where her mouth was and I loved it. Mercy’s sister, who was wearing a very tattered veggie tale print dress (gotta love globalization) takes care of her during the day while her mother works, which means Mercy doesn’t eat all day until mommy comes home. It’s babies carrying babies here. When babies cry because they are hungry, their older siblings drip water into their expectant mouths to quiet them. The older sister looked to be only about four years old, but she told me she was seven, severely stunted in growth probably because of malnutrition. The baby spread the entire length of her back when I tied her back on before I left.

I got to see Sharon twice this week…she lives at the same village as Mercy. She smiled a lot more this week. I am starting to genuinely trust God more with her, not that that impacts God’s love or control over her, but it is important for me. We did fingerpainting with the bush kids…it was great fun for all. My favorite part was seeing a train of small children walking home through the tall green grass holding big, bright pictures. It was beautiful.

The wedding was yesterday (Saturday). It was quite the sight to behold. 2000 people attended. Weddings here are like community events, all-inclusive celebrations. I realized that this wedding was a BIG deal, since a Ugandan man was marrying an American woman. This is the first wedding like this to happen in Lira and since Edward (the groom) is already somewhat of a local celebrity…this was THE wedding to attend. During the ceremony, there were about 20 chickens flapping around; they would later be given as wedding presents along with the goats tied to the tree outside the church. My favorite part of the entire hullabaloo was when a group of traditional dancers started to perform and three of the COTN Ugandan staff (Thomas, Ambrose and Jimmy, who was wearing Groucho Marx glasses) ran over and danced nonsensically with them. Thomas looked like an epileptic grasshopper while still maintaining perfect rhythm. It was something that would happen at an American wedding after everyone was a little tipsy. I loved it. All in all, it was a great cultural experience. I will hopefully be able to upload a picture or two soon.

I have been sick for the past 3 days with a cold-ish thing. Headache. Sore throat. Off and on fever. But it has been nice to slow down and rest. I’m hoping tomorrow I will be ready, steady, go.