after all this time

i've been home almost five months. i should probably stop posting on this blog. i mean, i'm not in africa anymore. i'm not even travelling anymore.nor do i have plans to travel internationally in the near future. bummer.

but i just can't get away. i can't forget.

some of my friends are going to thailand with HELP this summer. they are in the beginning stages of preparation and excitement. Andrea told me that her friend just got accepted to go to Mbale this summer. and then i realized, i want to go back.

i want to go to Impact and see Gerald, Nabeth, Rachel, and all those wonderful Leadership Program students. I want to go to CURE and see those mother's and teach them how to better their lives. i want to go to Mbale Regional Hospital and see Dr. Peter. I want to see the nurses and orderlies in the surgical theater, and maybe observe a surgery or two. i want to go to BAM and buy some Nice Biscuits. i want to go to the Babies Home and see James, Gududu and the other babies. i want to go to church and teach Primary, even though that mostly involves singing some songs and chasing Shadrach all over the compound. i want to go to FHE and make fun of the funny missionaries, while Jude and Bernard beg us for pizza. i want to go to Mbale Secondary and see those sweet girls who i hope we empowered. i want to go to Mt. Elgon primary school and see Peter- he would be overjoyed. i want to sit in Chat n' Chino eating "team crepes" with aubs. i want to go on a boda boda ride in the rain. i want to go to Namatala and see Gracie and little Grace. I want to walk into Child of Hope Primary school and have Godfrey greet me while throngs of children run, jumping to be the first to grab me around the waist or hold my hand. i want to laugh at them while they show off their hula hoop skills, jump roping skills, or their dancing skills. i want to go to english classes and help jonathon learn to read and write.

what i wouldn't give for one more day!


i feel horrible because it is starting to fade. the faces and names are starting to leave. the days blending together.
but there is something that will never leave- the love i felt there. the lessons i learned. the hardships and trials i saw people over coming. it horrifies me to think that some of the people i grew to love, i will never see again in this life. yes, i promised to go back. and my heart ached as i promised because i don't know when that day will come. i hope sooner rather than later. until then i pray that these people i love will be kept well in Christ, until we meet again.

i love this

tribute

i just watched this and cried. i miss this place. can we go back?

thanks aubs :)

snapshots of uganda: 2

this is Mercy. she lives in Namatala and goes to Child of Hope Primary School.

Namatala is the biggest slum in Mbale and one of the biggest slums in all of Uganda. Child of Hope serves only one section of the slum. They educate one child from each family in hopes of improving the overall education of that family. Child of Hope also teaches families (mothers especially) income generating activities (IGA's), as well as health care practices. i had the opportunity to work with Child of Hope many times this summer.

[back to Mercy]
whenever i went to Child of Hope, Mercy was one of the first children to run up and hug me [they all would run and pretty much tackle you]. she would play hand clapping games with me. she was always happy. she always had a smile on her face and was excited to see me. she made me feel so loved. on my last day in Namatala I went to Child of Hope and found that Mercy was not feeling well. I sincerely hope she recovered quickly and did not have malaria! she is a ray of sunshine in the midst of poverty. i have great hopes for her future! love you Mercy!

snapshots of uganda: 1

we met this little Somalian girls at Lion's Children's Park while we were running the Blood Drive. there is a horrific famine in Somalia right now, not to include political unrest, which has resulted in millions from Somalia seeking refuge in neighboring countries. since it was Ramadan (a Muslim holiday where they fast from sun up to sun down every day for a month or so) there were many Somalian Muslim's living in Mbale.

these cute girls came up and started dancing to the music we had going and pretty soon we joined in! (Somalians are different from Ugandans in that they are taller, skinnier and usually lighter skinned. the men, especially have defining features.) it was so fun dancing with these girls! they didn't speak any English and we didn't speak Somali. But that's the great thing about Africa- you don't need words to speak volumes.

what i remember from this experience is that these girls were so happy! they loved life. yet, they were refugees. they had no home. i fell in love with their smiles and enthusiasm. 

since being home and reading more about the famine and hard ships in Somalia, i wish i could go back right now. go to Somalia. and in some way relieve the poverty in some way. 

someday i will go.

until then i will never forget these happy, dancing refugees. 

one month

I have been home for one month. weird! it really seems like just yesterday that i was here:

with these lovely people:

how time flies! when i first got home i really hated it. i cried when i left Uganda and I cried almost every day for the first week i was back in utah. i'm more used to it now. i don't cry about africa. but i do miss it. there is one thing i do NOT want to do. i don't want to forget the experience! sometimes we have amazing experiences, and then we forget about them after a year or two. i promise i will not do that. going to Uganda changed me. mostly for the better. i am more confident. more headstrong. more humble. less judgmental. a better communicator. i understand development work- somewhat. i lived in a third world country for 18 weeks! at first it was really hard. but by the time i left, it was horrible leaving. i think part of my heart will always be in Africa. where do i want to go next? Somalia!

these little somalian refugees stole my heart!

(I also want to go to India, China and Thailand. so stay posted, my adventures are not over.)

You Know You've Lived in Africa for a Long Time When. . .

.  . . beans and rice is one of your favorite dishes

.  . . seeing two boys holding hands doesn’t even faze you (in Uganda, it is more common to see people of the same sex holding hands than people of opposite sexes. It’s just a cultural way of saying you are friends.)

.  . . you are used to cold showers (and you only shower twice a week. Oh, and forget about shaving regularly!)

.  .  . clothes you would never wear in the States start to look really cute

. . . you are really excited if the power stays on all day and all night

. . . you see a white person and have the uncontrollable urge to yell, “Mzungu!”

. . . waiting for up to an hour for a meeting or a class to begin is normal

. . . your day is made when you poop solid

. . . you find a rock in your food and you keep eating

. . . you see a dead cockroach in your bathroom and you leave it for a few days

. . . you think your clothes are clean when they don’t smell

. . . you start to argue over twenty cents

. . . you cancel your meetings when it rains

. . . you compare your chaco tan lines with others

. . . you think you’re really tan and then you shower and suddenly you’re not as tan as you thought

. . . all your clothes are crunchy because washing by hand you never get all of the soap out

. . . you have to drink all of your soda at the place you bought it because they charge you extra if you take the glass bottle

. . . you’re riding in a taxi and a random African sits in your lap and you’re okay with it because the 14-seater taxi only has 18 people and not 24

. . . you’ve had at least fifteen marriage proposals in the last week

. . . you sit on a motorcycle sideways (if you’re a girl), even when you’re wearing pants

. . . its normal to hold hands with a stranger when you first meet them

. . . you bargain over every price, regardless of what it is

Co-authored by Sarah Blackhurst, Suzanne Whitehead, Whitney Smith, Devin Wengert and Beka Arnesen

Where Death is Just Another Part of Life

Last month I spent three mornings a week (about 12 hours total each week) at Mbale Regional Hospital, volunteering in either the Pediatric Acute Care Unit or the Surgical Theater. There I came to know the dire need that Uganda needs for improved health care. Mbale Regional is a huge hospital, serving millions of people. It is very understaffed and under equipped. The staff who work there, however, are smart and innovative. They are trying their best to help the people who are ill. As you walk through the hospital you will see people lining all the walk ways and sitting everywhere, waiting for a doctor to see them. Pregnant women wait patiently outside a full delivery room until there is a bed available for them to deliver their baby. It is the most hopeless hopeful place I have ever been.

I once saw a mother holding her baby’s hand as the clinical officer drew blood for testing. I knew that if I was with my child in this hospital as it was (under staffed, ill equipped, dirty, and dark), I would be totally hopeless. However, as I watched this woman staring up at the clinician, I saw her eyes were full of HOPE. Compared to the health care we have in the US, Mbale Regional Hospital is the pit of despair, but for people who have never ever had even remote access to health care, it is a beckon of hope.

One sunny day I was in the surgical ward, waiting for an emergency to come up, because there were no scheduled surgeries. Andy and I cleaned and then folded gauze bandages for hours. Finally an emergency came in.  Any medical student loves seeing any kind of surgery and it (almost) excited when an emergency happens. Sometimes I see patients as nothing more than science. I was excited to see what emergency procedure we would be doing, when they carried in a little baby and laid her on the metal surgical bed in the pre-op area.  She was premature and had been badly burned. Her face—nose, eye lids, and lips—and arms were so burned they looked charred, like charcoal. Her little chest moved up and down, barely enough to be noticed. It was shocking—and horrifying. Even the medical staff in the theater was dismayed.  There wasn’t much to be done except try to relieve the pressure caused on the limbs by the burns.  I handed plaster (medical tape) to the clinical officer (a mere intern) as she cut open the burned arms to decrease the pressure and keep the blood flowing.  All I could think of was that this little girl was only a few days old and already was suffering so much hurt. A few days later, when I went back to the hospital I inquired about the baby.  No one knew what had happened to her. I assume she died. There is no way she could eat with her lips burned closed. It is heart wrenching for me to think she could not be saved. It is my first instinct to try to save a life at all costs. But, I do know that she is in a better place and is out of pain.

A few weeks later, in the pediatric ward, a toddler died while on the examination table. His mother walked out crying (Ugandans never cry) and the father held onto the limp body. Eventually they draped a coat over the boy and the father too, left.

Before I came to Uganda I had never seen death, but now I have stared it in the faith. I have watched as faithful nurses and doctors have tried, despite a limited supply of medicine and technology, to save every child who comes across them. I have a new appreciation for the healthcare we have in the US. I am grateful I will not have to have my baby in a mud hut, on a wooden bed. I am grateful that if my child gets sick or hurt, I can instantly get quality care for him. I am grateful health care has been prioritized and that so many people in America want to be doctors.  I will never forget the experiences I had at Mbale Regional Hospital. In fact, they have inspired me. I will come back to this place and do anything I can to improve the quality of healthcare given here. The people have the heart, they just need the road blocks removed.

A "Somehow Sketchy" Boda

Here in Mbale one of the cheapest, most common forms of transportation is the boda-boda, or boda for short.  A boda is a motorcycle with a long seat. They zoom in and out of traffic and swerve to avoid any obstacle—pot holes, other bodas, cars. Women ride side saddle while men straddle. Boda accidents are quite common but I have been fortunate enough to have avoided getting in an accident for the last three months . . . until last Thursday.

Abby and I on our favorite boda, driven by Habeeb

Sarah Blackhurst and I were on our way to Manafwa High School to help teach an Empowerment class. It had been raining all day and the roads are always a lot more slick after rain—mostly because there is red mud everywhere and the roads are poorly paved. We didn’t really think anything of it. I’ve ridden bodas through torrential rainstorms before and been totally fine—except for getting soaking wet. As we squished on the back of the boda (yes, we ride double) and started up the hill out of Senior Quarters, I became a little worried. I felt like his boda was about to break down or run out of gas. Then we would have to find a new boda. So, I said to Sarah, “This boda is somehow sketchy.” Not more than 2 minutes later, our boda driver tried to swerve onto a bit of paved road to avoid driving in the mud. In what seemed like a slow motion movie we tipped over onto our backs (remember we were riding side saddle, so the boda tipped to the right). Luckily we had backpacks on which protected our heads and most of our backs, but we were still pretty shaken up. I had red mud all down the back of my pink striped dress and my arm was a little sore from landing on the gravel. As I looked at Sarah and saw that she didn’t look much better than me, the hilarity of the situation registered and I burst out laughing! I could not believe how funny we must look! We had the lesson plan for the empowerment class, so we had to continue onward to town. As we got back on bodas (we took two different ones for the rest of the way), I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing.

Ugandans are so nice! Even if something is not their fault, they will apologize. So, for the rest of the day, random Ugandans were asking what happened and then expressing their sincere apologies—“sorry, sorry, sorry.” Although we were probably the laughing stock of Namatala (the biggest slum in Mbale) as we traipsed through the market, we didn’t mind. I may have ruined an entire outfit and had mud soaked through my clothing all the way to my underwear, but it was worth the memories!

in denial

i leave in 18 days

i have already said good bye to all the kids at Impact

i will be saying many more good byes

i feel like this is not real life

we all know that i hate good byes

here is a list of the people i have to say good bye to:

the babies at Gongama babies home

all the wonderful church members

our guard, David

people at CURE hospital and Mbale Regional

and other random friends

i wish time would slow down a little.

i never expected that 3 1/2 months would go by SO QUICKLY

its really scaring me

there is so much at home that is unknown.

so much here that i know and love

these are the happiest people, the prettiest land, the best feeling i have ever had.

so yes you could say that i am in denial about leaving

but then again, who wouldn't be?

sprinting to the finish line

i only have 5 weeks left here!

AAAAAAAGGGH!

I was really worried that when the second wavers left that all the projects would fizzle out. thank goodness for the awesome third wavers who are jumping right in to Uganda! I am now project lead on four projects- the CURE trainings, Mbale Hospital volunteering, handwashing outreaches, and the leadership class. I have kept really busy with them. Which is great! I do not want to be lame and die out these last five weeks. i want to keep sprinting hard core to the finish!

why?
I am not ready to leave! this place is honestly the best place I have ever been. I am content and happy. For the most part I live the Hakuna Matata lifestyle. The people here are the happiest people on the planet. They don't most of the "conviences" that we have in the US, but they have something more. They have family. They have community. They have relationships with God and with others that are undeniably strong. I love seeing children playing with homemade soccer balls (made from banana leaves and plastic bags) or homemade metal cars.  everyone here is so ready to learn knew things. they all want to make their life better than it was. they want to make Uganda a better place. They have such great hopes for the future. I hope and pray that they will all be fulfilled.

Well, I am almost out of time but I am going to really try to post more often in these last 5 weeks. Until later then...