Chapter XXIII

17 September 2007

I was so depressed Saturday most of the day. Then, about 15:00, Fr. David said we were going to visit another sponsored child. I didn’t even feel like going but I knew I should. So we got in the car and drove down some more truly horrendous roads until we couldn’t drive any more and got out to walk the rest of the way. Waiting for us on the pathway was Isaac, the boy we were going to visit. He had been on his way somewhere when he saw us coming so he was able to lead us to his home (up a narrow dirt pathway, down a steep embankment and over a few more winding pathways). There we came to a small mud hut with a thatched roof and no windows. The hut probably measures about 10 feet by 12 feet. There is no power, no running water. No beds – just straw mats on a dirt floor for the mother and her three children. The father died in 2000. Janet, Isaac’s mother, doesn’t even have a plastic basin to wash clothing in. She had a piece of a large tire she was ingeniously using as a basin to do laundry when we arrived. Isaac is 18 years old and in fifth grade because he has only been able to afford school fees ($8.00/term) for 5 of his 12 school-aged years. Isaac is about 4 feet 8 inches tall and suffers from a disease of the bones he was born with. No one has a name for it here – but it looks to me like severe scoliosis and kyfosis. His back is humped and hunched and slightly twisted. He is the only child I have met here who refused a hug from me – whether from self-consciousness or because it’s painful for him I’m not sure. But he proudly informed us he is first in his class in all subjects. He brought out and proudly displayed his school uniform and shoes. By then, the inevitable gathering of neighborhood children had arrived. There were about 8 girls and boys, and several of them began shyly stroking my arm, turning my hand over, touching my hair. They had never seen a white person before. My depression evaporated. How could I have possibly been so down because of a few set-backs? Here was s boy deformed from birth, 18 years old before he put on his first pair of shoes, proudly going into the 5th grade at 18 years of age. He has lived all his life in a little mud hut on about an eighth of and acre of ground – just enough for the hut, a small external kitchen, outhouse and a tiny garden. He has lived without running water, shoes, medical care, electricity, or even a mattress to sleep on. And his situation is not unusual here.
Sunday, 16 September, was a good day. We went to church at Emmanuel church. We saw a young man baptized. We heard the wonderful music, the singing of people who love to sing and praise the Lord. Rick preached, I sang (this time with some very welcome help from some of the youth) and we were able to give our gifts from St. John’s Uganda Fund - $500.00 to the orphans group and $300.00 to the church for Communion supplies, and two soccer balls for the kids. Rick had given Richard (the church Lay Reader) a package of 12 pens the other day. Richard got up and ceremoniously gave a pen to each Warden of the church. After church we had a time of greeting people who have now become friends and also many people who wanted their pictures taken with us. We met several more sponsored children and gave them the gifts from their sponsors. We then retired to the parsonage for lunch. While there, Richard and his wife, Jenifer, arrived with a large rooster to present to us as a gift. After lunch (rooster in the trunk), we went to watch a soccer game in which Isaac Rurihoona was playing. It was fun and very interesting. Once the ball was kicked out of bounds and a big chicken came flapping and loudly protesting from the disturbed clump of grass. Another time the ball was kicked out of bounds into a flock of goats who were feeding on the sidelines. A group of children clustered around us as usual. One of the girls was holding a small baby of about 6 months. The baby turned towards me, looked in wide-eyed amazement at this wrong-colored apparition (me), screwed up her little face in terror and began screaming. This is hard to get used to since I love children so much, and many times the little babies here are terrified of me. They had to take her away to another group of people to quiet her.
Later in the evening we had dinner at Patience’s house. This was our first visit to her home since she was married last December. Her home is well kept and she served an excellent meal. I was also happy to find out some of her sisters and/or girlfriends often stay there with her. I was concerned about her and Retreat being alone the whole year Emmanuel is studying in India. Patience gave me a tour of the house. It is built in a long rectangle with the living room right inside of the front door. You pass through the living room into a hallway with 2 bedrooms off of it. The hallway continues into a small mud room and the back door. Outside the back door is a detached room used as the kitchen. The house is in a triplex type arrangement with an enclosed courtyard in the back into which all three apartments open. In the courtyard are the doors to the kitchens, several shared-use shower stalls and latrines. A naked little boy was splashing in a basin of water in the courtyard, and lines of drying laundry were stretched out on clotheslines. It kind of reminded me of some of the places we saw when we went for visits with my mother’s family in Brooklyn, New York when I was a little kid – the communality of the situation, the easy way the neighbors accept each other’s closeness, clothes flapping on the lines. Patience explained that a “self contained” home (one with its own toilet room) would cost much more and since they are newly married they are trying to be responsible and save money for the future so they are living in this arrangement for now. I told her I was very proud of them.
Friday, when I was feeling so depressed and useless, I got out my sewing kit and began patching holes in the curtains and one of the girls gave me a blouse to repair. I also did some of our laundry – mostly socks and underwear. That was Friday. Today is Monday and they are still not dry. Hopefully today they will dry as it is currently sunny and breezy. I hope it remains that way as I now have more laundry to do.

Chapter XXII

14 September 2007

Still no power, and now no water. Evidently electric pumps are part of the water delivery system (go figure!). Last night a man came by with news of another piece of land for sale. So, after breakfast, we took off on foot across country on little dirt pathways, crossing streams on logs. The song “over the mountain and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go” kept going through my mind. After a long trek up and down hills, down dirt pathways and other roads, we came to the plot for sale. This one is actually better than the first one because it is level. It is right next door to a secondary school and around the corner from where a new health clinic is being built, and very close to a good road. We walked home, got a drink of water, and walked to town to change some money and check on the car. The mechanic showed us the damage and then informed us he can’t fix it until the power comes on because the welding unit needs electricity. So we hired a taxi to take us to visit the homes of sponsored children. He agreed on a price of 15,000 UGS (about $8.50). We got in and started off – going to visit the children who live in Bugongi. We passed through Bugongi and started up a road – one of the worst we’ve been on. We finally got to a point where the driver refused to take his car any further so it was get out and walk the rest of the way. It was, of course, up a mountain to the boy’s house. We climbed up and up, getting short of breath and rubbery legged. I wanted to start saying “are we there yet – pant, pant,” but didn’t want to complain. Finally, we reached the house. The mother of the boy, Baram, had met us halfway down the mountain and walked up with us. The house was a nice size and appeared well built. The view from the front door was incredible. We must have climbed up to about 7000 feet from 6300 feet. Inside the house which has mud walls and dirt floor, it was cool. There was a couch and two chairs and a wooden coffee table. We sat down and visited for a bit and took pictures. Then Baram presented us with a chicken as a gift for his sponsor. This brought tears to my eyes. The family is extremely poor and this was a big gift. The mother had also given us each a soda to drink, but she and Baram had none. Fr. David told me later that the mother is HIV positive. There are so many! It breaks my heart. We hiked back down the mountain where the driver was waiting, put the chicken in the trunk, and took off back down the mountain with the chicken squawking loudly in protest. Next stop we hiked up another mountain and visited several more families. By the time we got there I was ready to lay down in the dirt and refuse to move, but I kept remembering we were so very lucky to get to meet these children and their families in person, to get pictures for their sponsors – and that the children make this hike daily to go to school. All the kids are children of widows who also must walk up and down the mountains to get water and anything else they need from town, to go to church or visit friends. Children followed us everywhere. We visited about 9 children and their mothers and went home sore, tired, and very satisfied – but absolutely filthy. Still no power, still no water, so we stayed dirty and ate in the dark again. I haven’t been able to use the internet for three days now and feel cut off from the world. That night, we drew up a floor plan for the orphanage by candlelight.

15 September 2007

The power came back on late Thursday night so I was able to send a request to the bank to transfer money to buy the property. However, the bank replied no, I have to come in in person to do that. Meanwhile, the power just went off again. It’s cloudy and humid today. I am beginning to feel discouraged. Maybe the Lord wants to see how serious we really are. At this moment I have thoughts of forgetting the whole thing, going home to California, retiring in 2 years and vacationing in warm, dry, sunny places with power and fresh water the rest of my life. I feel trapped right now. I am not in my own house so I can’t just go work on a project, or leave and go shopping. If I go lay in the bedroom and read I feel rude. I forgot to bring any knitting supplies. And through it all, I’m beginning to fee dull and unimaginative.
I am fascinated at how a little deprivation of creature comforts can affect the spirit. I realize how pampered my life really is. Here in this place I am truly a stranger in a strange land. The water was off for 2 days – becoming dirty made me irritable. I need to do laundry but it looks like rain and I also know the clothes won’t be dry for two days. It is so humid it’s hard to breathe, and just sitting in a chair for awhile gets you a damp rear end from the moisture in the upholstery. I have to take allergy pills because of the molds caused by the dampness. As a guest, I feel obligated to be alert and entertaining, but I feel dull and tired. I get irritated at Rick because he just goes to sleep when he’s bored and I think that’s rude. But I wish I could do the same thing. The combination of the altitude and humidity makes me feel tired all the time. So – do I only want to do God’s work when I’m comfortable? Is it disgusting of me to feel so miserable I’m ready to give up when the children we want to help endure all this PLUS hunger, illness, abandonment, lack of clothing and countless other miseries and still have enough joy in their hearts to sing and play and dance? What is wrong with me!? I have a good husband, incredible children and grandchildren, a wonderful church family, a great job and have spent my whole life with adequate nutrition, hygiene, medical care and education. Less than a week of less than ideal living conditions and I am a grouch. I can also begin to understand why people are so willing to risk so much to cross the border into the U.S.A. What I can’t understand is why they get there, begin to enjoy the benefits, and then start complaining about it and say they aren’t being treated well enough. How unbelievably short are our human memories! We are all, every one of us, like the Israelites complaining about the Manna from Heaven and wanting to go back to slavery in Egypt just to have a more varied diet. How pathetic.
Rick and I prayed this morning for God to show us the way. His hand has been so obviously in this from the beginning. He whispered the idea of the orphanage in our hearts at the same time. He spoke a prophecy to me through a stranger that we should buy the property. He provided the funding to begin from an unexpected source. But now we are here to do it, we seem blocked from accomplishing anything. Our bank in the U.S. says the only thing we can do is write a check for the land. Our bank here says that would be– shall we say – not so smart of us. They say we should do it my e-mail. Our bank in California says no. So far it is a standoff only God can break.