its been quite an adventure.
there are a million things running through my head right now, and a million more that need a ton of processing. i have a lot of consideration to do about what i saw and what i learned in Africa.
but to the point, my dad and i are home safe and sound. we didnt die, so yay.
the blogs will continue, but i hope that if youre reading this, we'll get a chance to tell you in person about the trip.
thanks for supporting us, praying for us, and continuing to stand by us in this crazy thing.
love.
katie
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Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Thought That Haunts
The second day we were here we went to the public hospital to visit people there. If you saw the movie the Last King of Scotland you will recognize the place, it was shot there.
The place resembles what you would think a hospital looked like at the turn of the century. Large wards with thirty to forty people in each laying in old metal hospital beds. This hospital is for the poorest of the poor. Families sleep on straw mats next to the beds. If you don't have a family, you will die for no one takes care of the patients here except for the families. They feed them and wash them.
Initially patients are admitted and stabilized, perhaps diagnosed and if the family has money, then the person is treated. If not, they lay there until they get better or die. It's a cold hard place.
The very first patient I met was a young boy around twelve. He had been there about a week. He had been working cutting firewood with his family. As this boy was standing beneath a tree, he was struck by a very large branch that had been cut from above. The boy was pinned underneath the branch until enough people could lift it off his back. He was then loaded up and taken to the hospital. That was the last time he felt anything below his waist or could move his legs.
As we stood there listening to our Ugandan friend translate this boys story, I could only be grateful that my son is healthy and doesn't have to help me feed my family by being a lumberjack. My other thought was that this kids prognoses didn't sound good.
The family said the doctors did all they could do and unless the family had money, no specialist was going to come in. So he lay there. His mama was crying. His sister was asleep on the concrete floor. At the boys head were his X-rays.
"John you have medical training, could you please look at them. The family doesn't understand what is happening. The doctors haven't explained it very well. Please look at the pictures."
I said no.
I didn't want to give the false impression that I could help. I didn't want to give that mama any false hope. No, no, no...
The very first X-ray I looked at shattered any hope I had for the situation. The lower vertebra of the spine were at right angles to each other. With my most basic understanding of anatomy I know the spine should be stacked like blocks, not twisted and bent. I could only imagine how painful this kids life was this moment. I wondered to myself just how long this boy would have to suffer.
What do you say at a moment like this?
"This is bad." The biggest understatement of my life.
I talked about the little I knew about spinal injuries. I made a few suggestions. I prayed with the family. I watched as my daughter and the other girls struggled to hold back the flood of tears. I felt useless and stupid. The reality of the situation jumped up and slapped any altruistic thoughts out of my American "do-gooder" head.
I am such a shit.
I have never been back to the hospital.
peace,
john
The place resembles what you would think a hospital looked like at the turn of the century. Large wards with thirty to forty people in each laying in old metal hospital beds. This hospital is for the poorest of the poor. Families sleep on straw mats next to the beds. If you don't have a family, you will die for no one takes care of the patients here except for the families. They feed them and wash them.
Initially patients are admitted and stabilized, perhaps diagnosed and if the family has money, then the person is treated. If not, they lay there until they get better or die. It's a cold hard place.
The very first patient I met was a young boy around twelve. He had been there about a week. He had been working cutting firewood with his family. As this boy was standing beneath a tree, he was struck by a very large branch that had been cut from above. The boy was pinned underneath the branch until enough people could lift it off his back. He was then loaded up and taken to the hospital. That was the last time he felt anything below his waist or could move his legs.
As we stood there listening to our Ugandan friend translate this boys story, I could only be grateful that my son is healthy and doesn't have to help me feed my family by being a lumberjack. My other thought was that this kids prognoses didn't sound good.
The family said the doctors did all they could do and unless the family had money, no specialist was going to come in. So he lay there. His mama was crying. His sister was asleep on the concrete floor. At the boys head were his X-rays.
"John you have medical training, could you please look at them. The family doesn't understand what is happening. The doctors haven't explained it very well. Please look at the pictures."
I said no.
I didn't want to give the false impression that I could help. I didn't want to give that mama any false hope. No, no, no...
The very first X-ray I looked at shattered any hope I had for the situation. The lower vertebra of the spine were at right angles to each other. With my most basic understanding of anatomy I know the spine should be stacked like blocks, not twisted and bent. I could only imagine how painful this kids life was this moment. I wondered to myself just how long this boy would have to suffer.
What do you say at a moment like this?
"This is bad." The biggest understatement of my life.
I talked about the little I knew about spinal injuries. I made a few suggestions. I prayed with the family. I watched as my daughter and the other girls struggled to hold back the flood of tears. I felt useless and stupid. The reality of the situation jumped up and slapped any altruistic thoughts out of my American "do-gooder" head.
I am such a shit.
I have never been back to the hospital.
peace,
john
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Ying and Yang of Orphans
Update Uganda: rooster is still alive but he doesn't have that pep in his walk since i hit him with a shoe the other morning. He had the nuts to start crowing right outside our window a couple of days ago.
I do not have the ability to come to Africa and not be overwhelmed by contrasts and contradictions.
People die here everyday from Malaria, AIDS, starvation and other preventable diseases yet everybody seems to own a cell phone. For a mere 20 bucks you get connected. The dark ages of diseases comes face to face with the technical revolution everyday here.
The other day Katie and I went on a roller coaster ride when we visited the polar opposites of childrens homes in less than a 24 hr period.
Hopping on a taxi, we went about an hour out of town to the Ugandan goverment run home for children. The general area around Kampala is beautiful green rolling hills. As you leave town the bush just continues to get thicker until you are sure no man could penetrate it. On a hill in the middle of an open area sits this childrens home.
The first word that comes to mind to describe this place would be "shithole". (that may be two words) The facility resembles a a run down WWII army barracks. At first glance I was sure that the buildings I was looking at were abandoned. Most of the windows were broken out, paint was faded and rust stained.
I had been told that this facility was used by the government to house children that had been rounded up during sweeps of the streets by the police. People described to me how when street children spot the blue government vehicles rumbling down the street, they scatter out of fear being picked up and tossed into this place.
I expected a prison; what I found were struggling workers forced to make the best with what they are given.
The middle aged fellow who runs the place named Paul explained to us that yes children are taken off the streets; but in hopes of saving them from a life of crime, drug use, and exploitation. The children are given a bed inside, hot meals and an education. Other kids are sent there by the court system because the are habitual criminals.
I watched as groups of older boys stirred huge pots of rice while others got the mass of boys into a line to wait for food. You can tell that this was a system that was played out multiple times a day. Many of the kids were shirtless even though the day was rainy and cold. I am learning that what may appear to me as chaos is really order sometimes. All the kids got fed, even the little ones were not neglected.
As we hopped on "bodas" back to the main road all I could think that this was no place for human beings let alone children. Are these kids really better off here than on the streets. I hope so.
We rode back into town, met up with our friends and got a ride down to the dock area of Entebbe. There we met Ronnie and his brother who were taking us out to a children's home on Busi Island.
Busi Island is located about an hour off shore in Lake Victoria. There about a hundred kids live in a village setting and is 100 percent Ugandan run. What I mean by that is the leadership is all Ugandan based and that is rare I'm finding out.
We were met by singing and happy faces on the shore. Kids waded out to grab the boat rigging and to help us unload our supplies. I promptly impressed them by vomiting as soon as we landed.
Where as the kids at the detention center appeared disconnected from life, these kids were full of life and so connected to us. None of us could carry anything because each hand was being held by the most adorable, loving kids I have ever met.
They sang for us, they danced, they worshipped....I mean they WORSHIPPED! Most of all they just let us come to their little isolated home and get to be loved by them.
I felt sorry for the children at the detention center. Not because of the conditions they are forced to live in....but because they seem deprived of the greatest gift to be given; the opportunity and ability to love someone.
peace,john
I do not have the ability to come to Africa and not be overwhelmed by contrasts and contradictions.
People die here everyday from Malaria, AIDS, starvation and other preventable diseases yet everybody seems to own a cell phone. For a mere 20 bucks you get connected. The dark ages of diseases comes face to face with the technical revolution everyday here.
The other day Katie and I went on a roller coaster ride when we visited the polar opposites of childrens homes in less than a 24 hr period.
Hopping on a taxi, we went about an hour out of town to the Ugandan goverment run home for children. The general area around Kampala is beautiful green rolling hills. As you leave town the bush just continues to get thicker until you are sure no man could penetrate it. On a hill in the middle of an open area sits this childrens home.
The first word that comes to mind to describe this place would be "shithole". (that may be two words) The facility resembles a a run down WWII army barracks. At first glance I was sure that the buildings I was looking at were abandoned. Most of the windows were broken out, paint was faded and rust stained.
I had been told that this facility was used by the government to house children that had been rounded up during sweeps of the streets by the police. People described to me how when street children spot the blue government vehicles rumbling down the street, they scatter out of fear being picked up and tossed into this place.
I expected a prison; what I found were struggling workers forced to make the best with what they are given.
The middle aged fellow who runs the place named Paul explained to us that yes children are taken off the streets; but in hopes of saving them from a life of crime, drug use, and exploitation. The children are given a bed inside, hot meals and an education. Other kids are sent there by the court system because the are habitual criminals.
I watched as groups of older boys stirred huge pots of rice while others got the mass of boys into a line to wait for food. You can tell that this was a system that was played out multiple times a day. Many of the kids were shirtless even though the day was rainy and cold. I am learning that what may appear to me as chaos is really order sometimes. All the kids got fed, even the little ones were not neglected.
As we hopped on "bodas" back to the main road all I could think that this was no place for human beings let alone children. Are these kids really better off here than on the streets. I hope so.
We rode back into town, met up with our friends and got a ride down to the dock area of Entebbe. There we met Ronnie and his brother who were taking us out to a children's home on Busi Island.
Busi Island is located about an hour off shore in Lake Victoria. There about a hundred kids live in a village setting and is 100 percent Ugandan run. What I mean by that is the leadership is all Ugandan based and that is rare I'm finding out.
We were met by singing and happy faces on the shore. Kids waded out to grab the boat rigging and to help us unload our supplies. I promptly impressed them by vomiting as soon as we landed.
Where as the kids at the detention center appeared disconnected from life, these kids were full of life and so connected to us. None of us could carry anything because each hand was being held by the most adorable, loving kids I have ever met.
They sang for us, they danced, they worshipped....I mean they WORSHIPPED! Most of all they just let us come to their little isolated home and get to be loved by them.
I felt sorry for the children at the detention center. Not because of the conditions they are forced to live in....but because they seem deprived of the greatest gift to be given; the opportunity and ability to love someone.
peace,john
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Street Kids, Slums, and Mud
"Papa, can you please kill that rooster?" That was my very weary, peace loving daughters first words to me the other morning. We had been listening to the ungodly honking of that f-ing bird for the last four hours...it was now six in the morning. It was already a very long day. ( I have full confidence that the college guys here have already planned a slow and torturous demise for that bird.)
The earth here is a beautiful red clay color that the locals make brick out of. It's a rich deep red that is really wonderful to see...awful to walk through if you live in the slums. These shanty homes are built on a hillside and when it rains it gouges deep troughs into the earth and through the front doors of the homes there. The crazy thing about the slums is it looks much like what you think a squatters village looks like, homes fabricated from anything you can find and of course some brick sided homes. Still people must pay to live here....crazy how at the very bottom there is still a profit to be made.
A couple of the college guys here befriended a lady whose house continued to wash away during the hard rains that come almost every afternoon. They decided to fund a new home in a better location to help her...that was great as long as they managed to pay off three of the "slum-lords" so that she could have their gift. If they did not pay the extortion price, the slum lords would take it out on our friend. It makes sense to me much more clearly why Jesus was such an advocate for the exploited. No one seems to give a shit...Is there actually a good reason why people live in such conditions? I sit on a stoop scraping sticky red mud from my shoes wondering what a smart bomb goes for these days?
on to the streets When they said we would be doing street kid ministry I thought yeah piece of cake...I grew up in Central LA, the hood's the hood right?
Wrong.
Our time started by watching a herd of cattle sitting in the dirt overlooking the new construction project going on in downtown Kampala..not the same hood.
A soccer ball gets tossed out and things are looking promising. Ghetto kids kicking a soccer ball around a dirt field...this is more like what I thought I'd see. Suddenly the promise of a game stops. Two big thug kids dressed in one piece mechanic outfits have claimed the ball. Our Ugandan friend Mugabe and Jeremy (an American on staff here) go over and negotiate the release of our hostage ball.
Lots of yelling, pointing, puffing of chests...I learn my first Lugandan cuss words....the game is back on.
Standing on the sidelines I notice a kid with a really bad wound on his hand. I looks like an old wound that just not ever healed. This little kid looks like he is eighty years old. He could trick or treat as King Tuts mummy and not dress up.
I begin to clean and dress his wound...he show me two more ever worse. He says he got struck by a motor car. As I work on him, a crowd forms...everyone has nasty cuts and sores...all want "plaster"-bandaids place on their hurts. The crowd starts pushing and shoving. Head down, I miss the moment our camera gets stolen out of Katie's bag. I miss when a group of these kids surround one of our girls and start telling her "I want to sex you." I miss when another of our girl leaders gets felt up. I didn't see when a kid grabs another camera and makes a run for it. I didn't see the crowd chase after him intend on killing him and taking the camera for themselves. I did see and treat the kid who got struck in the head by a thrown brick. I missed when we had to pay ten thousand shillings to get the camera back.
Oh did I mention that all the while I treated this mummy kid's hand, he was huffing gasoline from a rag. He never released it. I bet if I took you to the slums tonight, he would still be hold that green rag.
He will die holding that fucking rag.
peace,john
The earth here is a beautiful red clay color that the locals make brick out of. It's a rich deep red that is really wonderful to see...awful to walk through if you live in the slums. These shanty homes are built on a hillside and when it rains it gouges deep troughs into the earth and through the front doors of the homes there. The crazy thing about the slums is it looks much like what you think a squatters village looks like, homes fabricated from anything you can find and of course some brick sided homes. Still people must pay to live here....crazy how at the very bottom there is still a profit to be made.
A couple of the college guys here befriended a lady whose house continued to wash away during the hard rains that come almost every afternoon. They decided to fund a new home in a better location to help her...that was great as long as they managed to pay off three of the "slum-lords" so that she could have their gift. If they did not pay the extortion price, the slum lords would take it out on our friend. It makes sense to me much more clearly why Jesus was such an advocate for the exploited. No one seems to give a shit...Is there actually a good reason why people live in such conditions? I sit on a stoop scraping sticky red mud from my shoes wondering what a smart bomb goes for these days?
on to the streets When they said we would be doing street kid ministry I thought yeah piece of cake...I grew up in Central LA, the hood's the hood right?
Wrong.
Our time started by watching a herd of cattle sitting in the dirt overlooking the new construction project going on in downtown Kampala..not the same hood.
A soccer ball gets tossed out and things are looking promising. Ghetto kids kicking a soccer ball around a dirt field...this is more like what I thought I'd see. Suddenly the promise of a game stops. Two big thug kids dressed in one piece mechanic outfits have claimed the ball. Our Ugandan friend Mugabe and Jeremy (an American on staff here) go over and negotiate the release of our hostage ball.
Lots of yelling, pointing, puffing of chests...I learn my first Lugandan cuss words....the game is back on.
Standing on the sidelines I notice a kid with a really bad wound on his hand. I looks like an old wound that just not ever healed. This little kid looks like he is eighty years old. He could trick or treat as King Tuts mummy and not dress up.
I begin to clean and dress his wound...he show me two more ever worse. He says he got struck by a motor car. As I work on him, a crowd forms...everyone has nasty cuts and sores...all want "plaster"-bandaids place on their hurts. The crowd starts pushing and shoving. Head down, I miss the moment our camera gets stolen out of Katie's bag. I miss when a group of these kids surround one of our girls and start telling her "I want to sex you." I miss when another of our girl leaders gets felt up. I didn't see when a kid grabs another camera and makes a run for it. I didn't see the crowd chase after him intend on killing him and taking the camera for themselves. I did see and treat the kid who got struck in the head by a thrown brick. I missed when we had to pay ten thousand shillings to get the camera back.
Oh did I mention that all the while I treated this mummy kid's hand, he was huffing gasoline from a rag. He never released it. I bet if I took you to the slums tonight, he would still be hold that green rag.
He will die holding that fucking rag.
peace,john
Monday, July 14, 2008
bringing Young Life to Uganda.
Saturday was kid's day.
so, we were told that i would plan three activity days for the kids house. when we got here, things got turned around and Julie (basically our guide and manager of our time in Uganda) told us that we would be doing one kids day while we are here. and that was on Saturday.
So we took bodas (crazy motorcycles that go 60 on dirt roads and are both extremely fun and extremely terrifying) to the kids house. this would be our second time to see these kids, and being in charge of their day was sort of pressuring. we didnt expect much. at the least we expected chaos.
well, we got chaos. lots and lots of chaos. but the kids here, they appreciate the smallest things. for instance, we gave them colored strips of cloth to represent what team they were on. and they treasured their blue and green cloth to no end.
we brought beach balls for some games, and it was somewhat difficult to teach them the Young Life-based games, like passing it over their heads in a circle, etc. HOWEVER. they were SO excited. papa did a good job of getting them going crazy, and they went crazy...
so. using the balls, we played freeze tag. hands down, the highlight of the day. starting out we knew, there is no way they will be able to understand the concept of freeze tag. at first, they really didnt. they were all running, running, running and it was absolute CHAOS. but after about five minutes, you could really start to see them "freezing" when they were tagged, and people on their own team coming and tagging them, "un-freezing" them. not only did they get it, but you could see in their faces, that they loved it. they were all so happy.
the final activity was the slip 'n slide. yes, we dragged a three-person slip 'n slide all the way to Uganda. there was no hose, just us throwing water on it, and rubbing bars of soap to make it slippery. we tried at first (TRIED) to have it be somewhat organized. you know, one at a time, that sort of thing. within seconds, they were all jumping on at once, crashing into each other, piling at the end. but none of them had ever experienced anything like that. we gave up on trying to manage it and just sat back and watched thirty little Ugandan children cover themselves in mud and soap.
the reason i tell you the details of Saturday is because it was the most surreal day. in the middle of Africa, down a dirt road, miles from the city, we were able to bring joy to children who would otherwise not have it as they did. we were able to learn their names and see their faces and hear their voices. it was then that a lot of us Americans, here, realized where we are and what we are here to do. it was on Saturday that i knew that i was brought here to love "the least of these" and bring them joy and happiness.
i am continually learning everyday about life and love and god. me and papa laughed today, looking at the calendar, realizing that it is only Monday. wow. it seems like we have been here a lifetime, because so many thoughts, emotions, and experiences have been packed into such a small amount of time. but in the time that i have been here, it occurred to me that i was also brought here to learn from these people. they have taught me so much. i was brought here to learn about myself. and i have.
holy cow. i can only imagine what is in store for the next couple weeks.
love.
katie
so, we were told that i would plan three activity days for the kids house. when we got here, things got turned around and Julie (basically our guide and manager of our time in Uganda) told us that we would be doing one kids day while we are here. and that was on Saturday.
So we took bodas (crazy motorcycles that go 60 on dirt roads and are both extremely fun and extremely terrifying) to the kids house. this would be our second time to see these kids, and being in charge of their day was sort of pressuring. we didnt expect much. at the least we expected chaos.
well, we got chaos. lots and lots of chaos. but the kids here, they appreciate the smallest things. for instance, we gave them colored strips of cloth to represent what team they were on. and they treasured their blue and green cloth to no end.
we brought beach balls for some games, and it was somewhat difficult to teach them the Young Life-based games, like passing it over their heads in a circle, etc. HOWEVER. they were SO excited. papa did a good job of getting them going crazy, and they went crazy...
so. using the balls, we played freeze tag. hands down, the highlight of the day. starting out we knew, there is no way they will be able to understand the concept of freeze tag. at first, they really didnt. they were all running, running, running and it was absolute CHAOS. but after about five minutes, you could really start to see them "freezing" when they were tagged, and people on their own team coming and tagging them, "un-freezing" them. not only did they get it, but you could see in their faces, that they loved it. they were all so happy.
the final activity was the slip 'n slide. yes, we dragged a three-person slip 'n slide all the way to Uganda. there was no hose, just us throwing water on it, and rubbing bars of soap to make it slippery. we tried at first (TRIED) to have it be somewhat organized. you know, one at a time, that sort of thing. within seconds, they were all jumping on at once, crashing into each other, piling at the end. but none of them had ever experienced anything like that. we gave up on trying to manage it and just sat back and watched thirty little Ugandan children cover themselves in mud and soap.
the reason i tell you the details of Saturday is because it was the most surreal day. in the middle of Africa, down a dirt road, miles from the city, we were able to bring joy to children who would otherwise not have it as they did. we were able to learn their names and see their faces and hear their voices. it was then that a lot of us Americans, here, realized where we are and what we are here to do. it was on Saturday that i knew that i was brought here to love "the least of these" and bring them joy and happiness.
i am continually learning everyday about life and love and god. me and papa laughed today, looking at the calendar, realizing that it is only Monday. wow. it seems like we have been here a lifetime, because so many thoughts, emotions, and experiences have been packed into such a small amount of time. but in the time that i have been here, it occurred to me that i was also brought here to learn from these people. they have taught me so much. i was brought here to learn about myself. and i have.
holy cow. i can only imagine what is in store for the next couple weeks.
love.
katie
Friday, July 11, 2008
Africa, Cold Water, and Naked Babies
"Like jumping into really cold water."- this is how I am describing our first 24hrs in Uganda.
First you are really disorientated. "Where am I?" "What's happening?" "Was this a good idea?" It might be the jet lag but this place is really different from Colorado. First of all; there are black people here, lots of them. (I apologize to the three black people from Colorado, all of whom I know.)
Next, it's really overwhelming. The mass of people. Different smells. Language. Etiquette. Customs. The most surprising thing that I discovered quickly is that I'm on the big size here. Obviously not height so much. I outweigh most of guys I've met. It might be because I have actually never gone a full day in my life with out eating and they have.
I tempted to post of a few of the tear jerking things we've seen so far. (That's right, I started crying about 4hrs after arriving.) It's a little too early to do that so I'll tell you my favorite moment so far, it made me cry too.
Yesterday, we traveled over to the children's home- it's not called an orphanage on purpose. The bulk of the kids weren't home yet from school so we toured the grounds and met the real little babies that were there. I was told that most of the little babies are not used to older men so don't be surprised if they are timid at first. They were...so feeling rejected I went outside and watched the guys cooking dinner and left Katie to hang with the babies. (they have a thing here called "chipati" that are just like my grandmas tortillas.)
Soon all the kids arrived and the only way I describe it is like the universal studios ride that simulated a flash flood. You see a wall of water crashing toward you and you are sure the tram is going to be swept away. At the last second the water goes around you and you are untouched. Except with this flood of kids, they didn't divert and I got swept up in the flood. Little kids everywhere. It wasn't until an hour later I got my bearing and looked up from the sea of kids.
Standing there in the hallway was Katie holding one of those little babies. He was totally naked and dusty..his name was Emma. And in that frozen moment that I'll never forget, this whole crazy thing came together for me.
"I can hold babies and that might be enough."
In all our discussions and over thinking I asked Katie what she wanted to do. That was her answer. Not in this country a half a day and I was watching my baby's hope come true. And that was enough for me.
peace
john
First you are really disorientated. "Where am I?" "What's happening?" "Was this a good idea?" It might be the jet lag but this place is really different from Colorado. First of all; there are black people here, lots of them. (I apologize to the three black people from Colorado, all of whom I know.)
Next, it's really overwhelming. The mass of people. Different smells. Language. Etiquette. Customs. The most surprising thing that I discovered quickly is that I'm on the big size here. Obviously not height so much. I outweigh most of guys I've met. It might be because I have actually never gone a full day in my life with out eating and they have.
I tempted to post of a few of the tear jerking things we've seen so far. (That's right, I started crying about 4hrs after arriving.) It's a little too early to do that so I'll tell you my favorite moment so far, it made me cry too.
Yesterday, we traveled over to the children's home- it's not called an orphanage on purpose. The bulk of the kids weren't home yet from school so we toured the grounds and met the real little babies that were there. I was told that most of the little babies are not used to older men so don't be surprised if they are timid at first. They were...so feeling rejected I went outside and watched the guys cooking dinner and left Katie to hang with the babies. (they have a thing here called "chipati" that are just like my grandmas tortillas.)
Soon all the kids arrived and the only way I describe it is like the universal studios ride that simulated a flash flood. You see a wall of water crashing toward you and you are sure the tram is going to be swept away. At the last second the water goes around you and you are untouched. Except with this flood of kids, they didn't divert and I got swept up in the flood. Little kids everywhere. It wasn't until an hour later I got my bearing and looked up from the sea of kids.
Standing there in the hallway was Katie holding one of those little babies. He was totally naked and dusty..his name was Emma. And in that frozen moment that I'll never forget, this whole crazy thing came together for me.
"I can hold babies and that might be enough."
In all our discussions and over thinking I asked Katie what she wanted to do. That was her answer. Not in this country a half a day and I was watching my baby's hope come true. And that was enough for me.
peace
john
Friday, July 4, 2008
How We Got Here.
About two years ago, our family was officially introduced to Africa when we saw the documentary about the children of Northern Uganda, Invisible Children. It tells the story about the people displaced by civil war and the children kidnapped and forced to become child soldiers in it. It truly influenced our ideas about this poverty-stricken area of the world. I started selling t-shirts and organizing small fundraisers for the Invisible Children organization. Our church, The Refuge, played a huge part in these fundraisers by helping to distribute the shirts and collecting spare change to be donated.
Through The Refuge, we met Kevin Potter. He and his family are from England and they introduced the idea of traveling to the country of Uganda. The organization Kevin is a part of is called Cherish Uganda. Cherish Uganda works towards creating a long-lasting and stable environment for both children and adults of the country. Kevin invited me to go with them on the next trip. The reality of actually traveling to Africa had never really crossed my mind. It sounded so incredibly possible, that we actually considered it. When my dad said that he wanted to go too, it seemed perfect.
However, we did consider our options carefully. We looked at the possibilities of going to South Africa, Ethiopia, Kenya, and some other countries through the organization, Mocha Club. Somehow, we were always drawn back to Uganda. Whether it was coincidence or providence, we discovered Come Let's Dance. Come Let's Dance is based out of Kampala, the capital of Uganda. It is an organization that works towards the idea of self-sustainability (in other words, helping Africans help themselves and not just a handout). The more we heard about it, the more we knew that this is where we wanted to be. Going through Come Let's Dance gave us the freedom to choose what projects and places we would be a part of. The people we have met through this organization have greatly exceeded our expectations, all of them being truly amazing people.
So, after months and months of raising money and hundreds of pounds of donations (a quick thanks to those of you who supported us in this trip and donated much-needed supplies) and constantly over thinking our expectations and plans, we're off!
We leave our family and friends in three days to the place that neither of us are completely convinced actually exists.
Please pray for our safety and travels while we're gone.
love.
katie
Through The Refuge, we met Kevin Potter. He and his family are from England and they introduced the idea of traveling to the country of Uganda. The organization Kevin is a part of is called Cherish Uganda. Cherish Uganda works towards creating a long-lasting and stable environment for both children and adults of the country. Kevin invited me to go with them on the next trip. The reality of actually traveling to Africa had never really crossed my mind. It sounded so incredibly possible, that we actually considered it. When my dad said that he wanted to go too, it seemed perfect.
However, we did consider our options carefully. We looked at the possibilities of going to South Africa, Ethiopia, Kenya, and some other countries through the organization, Mocha Club. Somehow, we were always drawn back to Uganda. Whether it was coincidence or providence, we discovered Come Let's Dance. Come Let's Dance is based out of Kampala, the capital of Uganda. It is an organization that works towards the idea of self-sustainability (in other words, helping Africans help themselves and not just a handout). The more we heard about it, the more we knew that this is where we wanted to be. Going through Come Let's Dance gave us the freedom to choose what projects and places we would be a part of. The people we have met through this organization have greatly exceeded our expectations, all of them being truly amazing people.
So, after months and months of raising money and hundreds of pounds of donations (a quick thanks to those of you who supported us in this trip and donated much-needed supplies) and constantly over thinking our expectations and plans, we're off!
We leave our family and friends in three days to the place that neither of us are completely convinced actually exists.
Please pray for our safety and travels while we're gone.
love.
katie
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