... And then I came home...

So, I'm home now... almost 2 weeks since I returned and my life has been forever changed. The stories and faces, flavors and sounds have been forever tattooed on my heart, and I will never look at my puny life the same. Maybe one day God will send me back, maybe not. Whatever the case, I will forever champion their cause.

But at this point, I'm back home and awaiting some word on what my next step is... Going to the doctor tomorrow to find out what is going on with me. I'm expecting to need surgery of some kind. But what then? How will I pay for said procedure? How long of recovery are we talking about?

And after THAT, what should I do? My parents and I have been struggling with my finances like crazy, and we're looking at possibly selling my car. Cool with me, but how will I get around then? Of course, if I get on a boat, I won't NEED a car. BUT, if I go back to Charleston (which is what I'm hoping for), I WILL need a car (and a reliable one at that). If I stay here, I can get a cheap clunker that my brother will be working on every weekend. AHH! It's ALL SO DIFFICULT!

Whatever the next step is, I KNOW that God's got it under control. I know there are some people who think that I'm crazy for thinking this way... I've been brainwashed into believing that God's gonna send money from Heaven to pay my bills. But, I can't help but remember how He's taken care of me in the past. Not just with money issues but by keeping me out of situations that would harm me and by putting me IN situations that prepared me for more difficult times... One of the songs that's been especially on my heart these past few days is a song by Ginny Owens called "If You Want Me To". It's seemed to be my testimony and hope over the last two months especially, and I draw a great deal of strength knowing that there IS a reason for all this insanity...

The pathway is broken
And The signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

Chorus:
Cause I'm not who I was
When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will walk through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that's not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I'd never go alone

So When the whole world turns against me
And I'm all by myself
And I can't hear You answer my cries for help
I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I go through the valley If You want me to

Day 16: The Life of Jesus... in 12 hours.

This morning, we took a tour to Bethlehem. Before we could get into the city, though, we had to present our passports, have them thoroughly checked. One lady in the tour group ended up not allowed to go into the city because she is Israeli -- even though she holds dual citizenship and is a resident of America now. We all felt terrible for her.

The inside of Bethlehem’s walls are covered in protest graffiti. The Palestinian residents basically reside in an open-air prison. They are not allowed to leave and Israelis are not allowed in. It was eerie going into the city, and yet, I’m so glad I did.

Our first stop was the shepherd’s fields -- the site where archaeologists believe the angels came to the shepherds. It’s completely different now -- with paved sidewalks and churches and fountains built on the sight. But, the cave where the shepherds would have lived is relatively in tact. The floor is a mosaic dating back to the Byzantine church. I was amazed that we were allowed to walk on such a national treasure. And the ceiling of the cave was covered in soot from centuries of fires within the cave. Amazing!

Our next stop was at the Church of the Nativity -- the sight where it is believed that Jesus was born. The sight is actually three churches in one -- a Roman Catholic, a Greek Orthodox, and a Lutheran -- each sight sharing the birthplace in their basements. We first entered the Orthodox church -- the oldest constantly active church in the world, 1500 years!

The doorway is small and narrow -- only small children would have no trouble entering without stooping. Our guide said this was to keep the Crusaders from galloping in on their horses and destroying the place. The nave is adorned with columns with the saints painted on them, incense burners hang down the middle of the room, and sunlight streams in from windows near the ceiling, a good 45 feet above. Trap doors open to reveal the original mosaic floor dating back to the Byzantine era. Orthodox priests were strolling about, blessing people, taking money for prayers. This REALLY bothered me. We then stepped through the main sanctuary of the church -- gaudily decorated with anything shiny and ornate. It made me a bit sick with all the cheap-looking shine.

Down a few steps toward the basement is the sight of the birthplace -- now reduced to a star on the floor of what looks like a fireplace. A few feet away is a small nook with a marbled manger. Sandy was telling me that at Christmas, the churches put a baby in the place... she said it looks like a dead baby. Anyway, pilgrims bend down to kiss and pray at the spot, and the line can be quite long to see the spot.

After finishing in the basement, Kimmie and I went up a different flight of stairs into the Catholic side of the church. We heard singing and saw a procession going through, and within moments, we knew it was a funeral. Our suspicions were confirmed when a group of pall-bearers came by and we saw hands outside the top. EW! From there, we toured another part of the basement with all sorts of caves throughout. This area was dedicated to the children Herod had killed after Jesus was born. It was a very solemn place. Our guide said that the Catholics keep the bones buried, but the Orthodox side leaves their bones as they are -- if dirt comes off them, then so be it. Kinna gross, I think.

After the church, we shopped at a place owned by Palestinian Christians -- apparently VERY much in the minority there and persecuted for their faith. They were wonderful people, and my heart goes out to their situation. Praying for the peace of Jerusalem has a whole new meaning to me now that I’ve seen it.

We didn’t even stop for lunch since there was so much to see in the old city. By 2, we were finished with the tour, and we made our way through the old city toward the Western Wall. The old city is perhaps the COOLEST place I’ve ever been. There are VERY few places for cars to drive, and most of the “streets” are walk ways lined with all sorts of shops -- tourist shops on the fringes, but getting more “every day” the deeper into the city you go. Somehow, we managed to get past the shops without breaking the bank (it wouldn’t be hard there! their wares are beautiful and pricey!)

We got to the Western Wall and Sandy commented that it wasn’t as crowded as it was last time she was there. (She was in Jerusalem over Christmas -- DUH!) The place is SO sacred and I could feel God’s presence there. I approached the wall, found a place to work into the crowd, and I knelt to pray. Many of the women there had prayer books, and they were praying and swaying. I’ve never understood the usefulness of pre-prepared prayers. Wouldn’t God want to hear our heart? Anyway, I prayed and placed my written prayers into the cracks in the wall. They were already brimming with bits of paper -- some very old, others fairly new. I felt part of a family doing that... it was weird... I felt strangely connected to the other prayers in the wall.

After the wall, we wanted to find the Church of the Holy Sepulcher -- one of the sights believed to be where Jesus was Crucified and Buried. While we were looking at the map, we were approached by a guy claiming to be part of the tourist board. He offered to show us around (for a price, of course!) and Sandy allowed him. He took us to this GREAT overlook where we could see the Dome of the Rock and the skyline of Jerusalem. It was beautiful. Then, he took us down the Via Dolorosa -- the 14 stops Jesus made on the way to His Crucifixion. It was interesting, and while I never trusted the guy, I’m glad we did walk the streets where Jesus walked. It helped make the crucifixion real to me. He left us at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and that was when I KNEW that he was a con artist. He didn’t want anyone to see him walking around a tour group on his day off... Whatever.

We went into the church, and again, I saw the gaudiness of organized religion. The church was dark and foreboding with crowds of pilgrims kissing a rock (that had no inscription??) When crowds were around the cross, we decided we’d had enough of the “Jesusland” insanity, and we left for the Garden Tomb.

The Garden Tomb is an underrated and well-kept secret of the city. In contrast to the commercialized insanity of the other places, the gardens are serene and manicured. From a platform, I saw what they believe to be the Rock of the Skull -- Golgotha -- where Jesus was crucified. It is just outside the northern gate into the city, and beside the road where “passersby” could have easily mocked Jesus. Through the garden, there is a wine press and cistern that can hold 2000 gallons of water, all dating back over 2000 years. Obviously, the owner of the garden was very wealthy. There is a tomb cut out of rock on the far end of the garden. Archeological evidence supports this as the sight of Jesus burial because there is space chiseled out of the rock to make room for a body not originally meant for the tomb. In addition, there are two unfinished burial plots in the sight. On the wall outside, the first Christians carved an anchor with a cross -- signifying this as one of the first places where church services were held. Inside is a Jerusalem cross dating back to the Byzantine era.

This day definitely gave me LOTS to think about. I think the tour guide said it best when he said that we don’t KNOW if this is the correct sight or not. But, what does it matter? Jesus isn’t there! We don’t worship and serve a dead Jesus. We serve a Jesus who rose again and defeated death. So, what does it matter WHERE he was born, died, or rose again? The POINT is that HE DID!

We were starving after not having eaten since breakfast, so after the tomb, we went BACK to the old city for one last round before we called it quits. At the Jaffa gate, we ran into a guy who was smitten with Kimmie the day before. We asked him where to get good falafel, and he directed us to “Falafel Gabbi’s” in the Christian Quarter. He gave us directions and told us to tell Gabby he’d sent us. Once we made it to the man’s little stand, we understood. We walked ALL through the residential areas, and even had some of the locals asked us if we knew where we were going! Sandy and Kimmie are WAAAY too nice, so I spoke up before they had a chance to answer. The falafel was the best I’d ever had, and after I scarfed down my pita, I could have eaten another.

Day 15: Meeting with World Vision

We made it into Tel Aviv just after 3 am, skated through the airport, and caught a shuttle to Jerusalem. By 5 am, we were nestled into our hotel room. We had a meeting with World Vision at 2 pm, so we caught some sleep and were back out by noon for lunch.

At lunch, I saw my first Hassidic Jewish family. The parents couldn’t have been older than mid-20s, and they had three children (with another one in the oven!). The wife had her hair tucked into a hat while the husband had his black hat on almost the whole time. They both wore black. Their son had bright red hair and had on his yamica. He also had tassels out of his pants. It intrigued me.

The meeting with World Vision went well, and after that we took off for the old city. By that time, though, it was getting late, so we walked around the Armenian quarter for a few minutes and headed for food in a really up-scale mall area. The food was good... I think I had pasta again... LOVE ME SOME PASTA!

We walked back to the hotel by the light of the street lamps. I never once felt in danger or threatened. Everyone is very friendly and helpful... at least, that was OUR perception.

Day 14: Meeting the lions and Flying to Israel!

We met Teddy this morning to talk about Invest in Children and what they do. Teddy is a local pastor who is interested in opening a clinic for mothers and children escaping the sex trade. Apparently, trafficking is rampant in Ethiopia, and many women and children have AIDS because of it. SO SAD!!

Getu joined us for lunch and we went to a local place for lunch. I had been craving pasta, so I ate fettucini alfredo. It was SCRUMP (as Tracy would say)!

After lunch, we went to see the LIONS! Finally, I got to see lions in Africa! These were in a zoo sort of deal, so it wasn’t in their natural habitat, but I got closer than I probably would have gotten on safari. They were GORGEOUS, and Kimmie got some GREAT pictures of them!

By 4, we had to be out of our room, so we packed up and met Getu and Teddy for dinner at the hotel. Before that, Kimmie and I walked around the grounds and took pictures -- SILLY ones.

Dinner was and AWESOME buffet of all sorts of foods -- Italian, Asian, Ethiopian, Middle Eastern... SOOO GOOD! I stuffed myself.

We made it to the airport for our 11 pm flight to Israel and had some time to shop. That was when I realized I was missing $20. Still haven’t found my money, so oh well...

At some point in the airport, I got VERY claustrophobic and started feeling like part of a cattle drive. We were shuffled from one large area into a smaller waiting room into a SMALLER waiting area... I began to experience the panic and unease that Jews must have experienced during WW2.

Day 13: Addis Ababa

Because we had such a LATE night the night before, we slept in a bit today. But, we had to meet one of our contacts, Getu, for lunch and a brief tour of Addis. We went to one of the local craft markets to find some gorgeous scarves -- many of the ladies here are Moslem, so they wrap their heads in public. I noticed that MANY of the goodies in these markets were very similar to what we found in Uganda. I had no way to compare prices (without extensive thought) since Uganda uses shillings and Ethiopia’s currency is the birr.

Ethiopian people are beautiful. Their skin is a rich caramel color, their features are fine and regal -- thin noses, high cheek bones, black, curly hair, long limbs and thin fingers. They have an exotic mystery about them.

At the market, we also encountered our first bit of begging. Almost as soon as we got out of the car, children were at our sides seeking food or money. I had nothing small to give them, and it really made me uncomfortable. Even while we were sitting in traffic, people came up to our windows. One kid, after seeing that we were an entire CAR FULL of white people, called his sister over and they both started singing to us. It was pretty insane.

We ate lunch at the Hilton hotel -- the three of us ordered Ethiopian -- once again AWESOME! Although, I’m not a huge fan of injira bread. It has the consistency of a sponge wrap and tastes vinegary. I’d rather eat my Ethiopian fare with pita bread, thank you very much.

After driving around Addis, we came back to the hotel and decided to get massages in the evening. We were in “detox” mode after being in Gulu for so long, so a deep massage was just what we needed to recharge. The spa at the hotel was just as posh as the lobby. The floor was a gorgeous mosaic that followed us into the ladies locker room. On the ladies side of the spa, there was a long corridor with dressing rooms, a sauna, jacuzzi, and massage rooms. The most shocking thing I saw was a topless lady just walking down the hallway like nothing. I can understand being topless in the locker room, but in the MIDDLE of everything?! Brazen...

Once again, we ordered room service where Kimmie found a hair in her food and was so grossed out she almost puked. Honestly, I think my reaction would have been the same.

Day 12: Off to Ethiopia

At 6 am the next morning, Kimmie and I awoke for an early start to the hospital. I was feeling FANTASTIC -- no pain, no soreness, no exhaustion -- but I knew that it was thanks to some REALLY good drugs. Because we didn’t know if we’d have time to pack after we returned from the hospital, we packed all our bags and carried them to Bosco’s van. Our flight to Ethiopia was leaving at 5 pm, but Kristoff’s was leaving at 4, so we needed to be at the airport by 2, and we needed to leave Kampala by 1:15. Since we knew how time in Africa works, we aimed to be finished with the doctor by 11.

The Kampala hospital took us straight back to see the doctor, who, as expected, sent us to the lab for blood work. I suppose I was still quite dehydrated because my veins rolled and dodged the needles like nobody’s business until the tech was forced to pull blood from my wrist. I’m now sporting a lovely 4 inch bruise. I swear, with all the pricks in my arms, I look like a drug addict.

The blood test showed that my WBC was down to 8.5 -- within the normal range, but still a bit high. The doctor still wanted an ultrasound, but I had to go to a lab outside of the hospital to get that. Because it was already 8:30 and we didn’t know if I’d have time to come back to see the doctor, we asked for antibiotics and promised to get the ultrasound. He complied and we made our next stop.

The ultrasound showed some interesting results. What I thought was appendix pain turned out to be a mass on my bladder. The doctor said the mass was 3 cm by 4 cm and appeared to be mixed -- cystic and vascular with water pockets. The mass was blocking part of my ureter and inhibiting my ability to urinate completely -- thus causing the infection. Because I was on antibiotics and pain medication, I wouldn’t have any problems, but as soon as I got off of them, the infection and pain would come back. So, the final decision was to cut the trip short and get me to a hospital in the states. The doctor said I may need surgery.

We were out of the office by 11 as we hoped, had time to make it back to the hotel for one last lunch with Kristoff, and just enough time to get Kristoff to the airport before they closed the gate.

The trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia was relatively uneventful. After being shuffled through what seemed like ten thousand security checkpoints, we had to wait in a room for yet ANOTHER security stop... We landed in Addis at 9 pm and checked into our super-swank hotel room at the Sheraton Addis. Perhaps the nicest hotel room I’ve EVER stayed in. The hotel even provided BATH SALTS for us!

We were famished once we got to the room, so we ordered room service (my first EVER!!). I ordered Ethiopian -- unsure of what I would get, but feeling a bit adventurous. I LOVED it! They use a spice called berbere that is spicy but not scalding hot... YUM!

Day 11: Back to Kampala

The next morning, Kimmie and I were ready to go by 7 am. Bosco arrived at 8:30, but we didn’t make it into the sunshine until well after 9. First, I had to be re-examined by the doctor, have my discharge papers written up, pay, and be given a shot “to go” of the good stuff that knocked me out the night before.

The shot was the last thing before we left, and I was really quite scared that I wouldn’t make it long enough to take a shower, eat breakfast, and pack before I zonked out. But, after the good sleep I got the night before, the drug just made me giggly as we bounced around the Gulu streets. A “Women’s Day” parade marched in front of the Acholi Inn as we approached, so Kristoff and Sandy welcomed me in the gate. They commented about how much better I looked. I assured them that it was the shot I had been given. (Speaking of shots, I’ve figured out why alcoholic drinks are called ‘shots’. Just like the medical term that takes effect immediately, the alcoholic version ALSO goes straight to the brain and makes one the entertainment of all around. Rabbit trail, I know... so humor me.)

Miraculously, I giggled and slipped my way through a shower (AH! The RELIEF!), packing, and breakfast. But after all that, I climbed into the van and crashed. I barely remember hugging Lucy good-bye and thanking her for all she had done... Now, it amazes me at how close I feel to this woman who had been a perfect stranger 48 hours before. Emergencies tend to draw people closer, eh?

The road to Gulu was just as dusty, hot, and bumpy as it was when we first traversed it, but I was asleep for much of the ride. Kimmie said we made pretty good time considering the fact that Bosco drove SO slowly over the potholes and bumps. She said that most people passed us. I do vaguely remember the sickening smell of diesel fumes, though.

Once we got into Kampala, we first unloaded at the hotel. I wasn’t feeling very well because I hadn’t eaten much and I was exhausted (even though I slept, it was uncomfortable). We decided to get food before Kimmie and I reported in at the Kampala hospital. We walked over to the food court as usual, and I dreaded being mobbed by the servers from the various restaurants. I felt queasy and didn’t feel like eating in the first place. But, I braced myself for the onslaught and tried to think of what I might be able to stomach. I had to eat SOMETHING, and I figured rice would be the most gentle on my stomach (and the easiest to throw up if necessary). Kimmie and I ate quickly and we left with Bosco while Kristoff and Sandy stayed behind at the hotel.

The Kampala hospital was WORLDs better than Gulu, although still well-used. By the time I saw the doctor, I was wiped out from the past few days and I was starting to hurt again. The doctor said that he wanted a new ultrasound and new blood work, but the labs were closed, so I’d have to return in the morning. He did give me stronger pain medication and sent me on my way. The pain meds worked wonders and I slept soundly through the entire night.

Day 10: Goin to the Hospital!!

At some point in the night, the pain tore into my side. It started as a stab -- like a cramp from not breathing properly -- and before too long escalated to nothing I’ve ever experienced. In addition to that, I began throwing up everything I had eaten at dinner. Assuming it was something I ate, I expected the pain to subside and to be able to sleep. No such luck. The entire night, I kept Kimmie awake with my pacing, tossing and turning, vomiting (lucky her!), and groaning. I had NEVER been in such pain. Thinking (hoping?) I just had a BAD case of gas, I took some gas medicine...I might have just taken a baking soda tablet with all the help it gave me. By dawn, I had nothing left on my stomach to vomit, I was exhausted, sweaty, and still writhing with pain. The team left me to attend their workshop while I stayed in bed, hoping to get better before lunch. Just in case, Sandy left her cell phone with me so that I could call Bosco to come get me when I was ready.

By 11, the pain had crept around to my back, and I couldn’t walk without feeling like my intestines were going to spill out of my stomach. I called Bosco in tears and asked for Sandy. “I think I need to go to the hospital. I can’t stop throwing up and my side hurts!” Within minutes, Bosco and Lucy were at the hotel to take me to the hospital.

This is where the adventure BEGINS! The Gulu Independent Hospital is the best facility in the town. The structure is typical concrete block with ancient paint and red-dirt yard. The inside smells like day-old B.O. baked into the brick. Acholis (Gulu residents) crowded the benches lining the walls and stared quite obviously at the pitiful looking Muzungu shuffling in.

After registering, I plopped down on the bench nearest my butt and tried not to let the smell overwhelm me. After puking for 12 hours, smells were the LAST thing I needed to keep my stomach in tact. But, somehow I concentrated on the cracks in the floor and survived the excruciating minutes until the doctor could see me. His office was a small room with an examining table that had an old bed-sheet for a cover. As I laid down for him to examine me, I wondered how long it had been since the sheet had been washed, how many sick bodies had lain exactly where I was, and what strange illnesses I was coming into contact with. I had to stop thinking such thoughts or I’d never make it out alive. The doctor ordered labs and an ultrasound of my abdomen, so I trekked over to the lab -- holding my stomach to keep everything inside -- and got stuck. Apparently, I have no blood in my left arm because every time I’ve been stuck the past several days (yes, I’ve been stuck more than once!), nobody could get anything out. But, the tech did get a sample and the results determined that I had a white blood cell count of 18.8 -- VERY high... So, there was infection in my blood. Greeaaat! I moved over to the ultrasound lab--everything was in three different buildings--and THAT guy found my bladder looked abnormal. He said that my appendix and bladder was inflamed. Much to my horror, the doctor decided that I needed to stay the night to get intravenous fluids, antibiotics, and pain meds. Curled up on a hospital bed with another old, well-used bed sheet, I got the news that I wasn’t going anywhere for a couple days. I was terribly dehydrated and at risk of rupturing my appendix. At this point with the hope of no pain, I was game for whatever I needed to do. So, the doctor stuck the pick-line in my hand, the nurses prepared a private room for me, and I called Sandy to update. While we waited, Lucy held my hand and prayed with me. She assured me that I would be okay and that God had everything under control. I teared up at her gentle words. They were just what I needed; yet, I missed home terribly and I wanted nothing more than to have my mother there with me.

My room was just off the main corridor. It was rather large with two ancient beds with 3 inch mattresses and (you GUESSED IT!) well used bed sheets. These seemed clean at least. And the mattresses were vinyl, so maybe nastiness didn’t sweat into them too much. There was a small oscillating fan mounted on the wall and that helped TREMENDOUSLY with the sweltering heat. One bare bulb hung from the ceiling. In the corner was a sink basin sans towels or soap, and a small bathroom around the corner. My room was ground level with a house and children playing right outside my window.

When I got into the room, the nurse hung my first bag of fluids. She put the pain meds in my bag and gave me another shot directly in my vein. It lessened the pain for about 45 minutes, and then I was crying for some relief. Lucy, who had been curled up on the other bed, went in search of the nurse who came in, stroked my leg, and tried to comfort me. She told me that she couldn’t give me another dose for four more hours. I was devastated. So, she came back a few minutes later with a dose of something she had to shoot in my rear end. Gladly, I bared it. It lessened the pain for about two hours, but again, I was back to begging for some relief. By that time, the team had finished with their day of teaching, so Bosco went to pick them up and brought them straight over. Seeing their faces brought such relief, and I know I looked like death warmed over between the pain and the sweltering heat (but I wasn’t sweating anymore... hmm?), but I didn’t care that I had frizzy hair and a stinky body. I was so happy to see familiar faces!

Kimmie came in, gave me a hug and told me that she wasn’t going anywhere this evening. She was staying with me. And I’m SO glad she did! After a few minutes visit, Sandy (who had written down what we wanted her to bring back from our room), Kristoff, Bosco, Patrick, and Lucy all left to get the items, eat dinner, and then pass out the school supplies to the kids. They returned around 9 pm when I had slept for a while and gotten more pain meds in my system. I was feeling MUCH better... but I didn’t look or smell any better. Oh well.

Kimmie and I stayed up and talked for a while after everyone left again. At times, I drifted off to sleep, and she read. Once a male nurse came in to check on me, and without stopping to put on gloves or wash his hands, he started fiddling with my pick line (which I had been bleeding from). Then he rinsed his hands in the sink (with questionable water), wiped them on his pants, and proceeded to help himself to Kimmie’s bag of cashews. The look on her face was a mix of horror and malice. What in the world was he doing? She didn’t eat another cashew that night. In fact, they made their way into Kristoff’s hands the next day, and he donated them to the goats along the road back to Kampala.

At midnight, my nurse came in and gave me a shot that burned like fire going in, and eventually spread the warmth to my fingers and toes, my stomach and head. Within minutes, I was floating on a cloud. It scared me a little to be so out of sorts, but at the same time my pain was gone for the first time all day. I slept for three hours solid.

When I woke up, Kimmie was nestled in the bed where our *good* nurse had made the bed with clean sheets. I drifted in and out of sleep for the next four hours. Sometimes Kimmie was awake, and sometimes she was asleep, but it was always a comfort to see her there beside me. It would have made for one lonely night without her.

Day 9: Preparing for Teacher Training

Kimmie got sick today. She had been queasy all morning, and just before we got ready to leave for town, she started vomiting. The poor thing. By mid-afternoon, she had bounced back, and she realized that the combination of her malaria meds and vitamins she’s been taking reacted to her not having breakfast first. Yuck.

Having to leave Kimmie behind at the hotel, Kristoff, Sandy, and I took off with Bosco to meet Lucy in town. We stopped by the bank to change over some money and then headed to the two shops in town that sold “Muzungu” souvenirs. It was almost exactly like the stuff in Kampala, but almost HALF the PRICE! I was shocked and excited and then bummed to discover that I could have saved SO much money if I’d waited. Cest le vie.

Lucy took us to her pastor’s house where we looked at beautiful Acholi bead necklaces. Acholi beads are made from rolled up bits of paper. The sizes and way they are rolled often creates beautiful shapes and the various colors on the papers creates beautiful textures. Anyone who’s known me for a while knows I’ve always LOVED beaded jewelry, so I was in heaven. I was sad I didn’t have more money to buy beads, but I did walk away with a beautiful pink strand (PINK! It’s my new obsession...) which Kristoff commented on at least three times over the next day.

That afternoon, once we returned from town, I joined Kimmie with last-minute preparations for class while Sandy met up with Patrick to shop for school supplies in town. Patrick is another Gulu resident who spent two years as a child soldier. His harrowing story begins with LRA soldiers raiding his village, holding his family at gun-point while they raped and murdered his sister. He then was abducted with his brothers and forced to become a soldier with the rebels (or risk his brothers being tortured, dismembered, murdered... you name it). He stayed with the rebels for two years watching his brothers die -- in battle or by LRA hands -- before he escaped. He then worked hard to get his education and now is well-respected in the community. He has a weekly radio show on the Gulu station, he works with the kids in the area with after-school kid’s club, and he tries to help families affected by the war.

Day 8: Back to Gulu

We returned to Gulu today, Thursday, said farewell to Murchison. We’d miss the beauty of the lodge and the luxury of the meals. Gulu isn’t quite as glamourous with their accommodations or or food availability. But, Gulu DID have air conditioning where Murchison did not! We took a different road back to Gulu this time. Instead of traversing over interstates which would be smoother, but take longer, we went along a dirt road that took us past several villages and IDP camps. This was MUCH more rough, but definitely favored all around. We got to see the “real Uganda” here--as if we hadn’t seen enough already. Part of it was enlightening. What seemed so hard to grasp before -- the grass-topped huts, women carrying firewood on their heads, men using whatever means necessary to cart what they needed -- was no longer so shocking anymore. Not that I suddenly accepted the poverty. But, I realized that these people have lived this way for thousands of years. They have families, well-behaved children, and close-knit communities that we don’t have in the states. Why is that? They are not unhappy (as a general rule) with their lot in life, and I wonder if they see “Muzungus” as trying to destroy their heritage as we are so infamous for doing. Yes, they need healthcare education; yes, they have political unrest; yes, they have social problems. But, the core of their society is very positive. Some, of course, see whites as their savior. The solution to all their problems.

This evening, we went out to eat and met Lucy, a Gulu resident and former employee of World Vision (before they pulled out of the area a few years ago). I don’t know all the details of her story, but I do know that at one point, she was forced to run away from home with nothing more than her school books. And this past year, the government had her brother killed because he was speaking out against corruption. Currently, she’s getting ready to undergo surgery for a large cyst on her ovaries. She’s had a difficult run, that’s for sure.

Day 7: Morning Safari and Work Day

This morning we hired a guide to take us around the park looking for lions. Some groups before us had had success with their searches, so we hoped to be just as lucky. So, we pulled ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn -- 6 am -- to be ready to leave by 7. In Africa, any given time is delayed by half an hour, so we ended up leaving around 7:30. We saw a beautiful sunrise, though, and a family of elephants cross the road... I swear! we can’t seem to keep them away! We never saw the lions, but we did get some amazing views of the Nile river -- the White Nile, I’ve since been told -- and saw tons of birds and deer... and of course giraffes! They are SO neat!

That afternoon, we HAD to get some work done, so we camped out in our rooms -- I met with Sandy and Kimmie about the training on Saturday as we reorganized and packed our bags, created posters and visuals, and rehearsed what we would talk about. Our training was originally supposed to be two days, but (as so often happens) we had to cut it back to one day. I feel SO sorry for the teachers, having to understand in one day what it took me several days to wrap my mind around. But, that was the time we were given, so we’ll do our best with it.

Day 6: The Falls and a River Cruise

Our first full day at Murchison Falls, we took the ferry across the Nile into the park to see the highly acclaimed water falls. Now, I’ve seen some pictures of pretty incredible waterfalls, but I think what makes Murchison so spectacular is that the ENTIRE contents of the Nile flows through 7 meters of rock wall. It’s a fairly narrow passage, so you can IMAGINE how the water churns and roars through the chasm, eh? The falls were breathtaking. Even more when I climbed onto a rock (as close as I dared!) near the edge and looked down. And the rainbows were EVERYWHERE! They were beautiful! Pictures don’t even come close to doing this place justice! I could have sat on my rock and watched the water flow for hours, just basking in the beauty of God’s creation...

That afternoon, after a quick lunch, we set sail for the falls again, only at a different angle -- a river cruise! On the cruise, we were able to see even MORE wildlife that hangs near the water. We saw TONS of hippos, crocodiles, beautiful birds (the weaver birds were my favorite! Their nests are so cool!), and another family of elephants. We only spent a few moments at the falls, but it was all we needed to see the falls, snap a few pictures and move back down the river. It was rather odd, really. The ferry ran us directly into a huge boulder in the middle of the river, we climbed out, did what we needed to do, and piled back in. No more than 10 minutes really. Weird.

That night, we had another close encounter with the local wild life. On our way back to our rooms after dinner, we saw a mother and baby elephant eating in the vegetation nearby -- literally no more than 30 feet away! We were enthralled to be so close to such power and beauty, but terrified of the consequences if we startled the mother. Mamas are fiercely protective of their young! I guess after a two-year gestation, you want to keep your hard work around for a while! So we were extra quiet -- even I managed to squelch my squeals of delight -- and before long, they moved away into the night.

Day 5: Murchison Falls

Gulu is a pretty rough area to stay in. Not only is it fairly undeveloped (the nicest hotel in the city is about equivalent to a cheap hotel in the states), but there is NOTHING to do. The people of the town have no real use for “tourist” attractions, although there are local bars and hang-outs, but Muzungus would stand out there. SO, Sandy opted to take us to a near-by game park for a few days between our camp and teacher training. There we could take in some of the wildlife, rest up in relative luxury, and regroup for the weekend ahead.

So, early Monday morning, we left Gulu for Murchison Falls, a safari park on the Nile River. Before we embarked, we stopped in Gulu to get some cash at the bank. Kristoff and I stayed in the van with Bosco while Sandy and Kimmie went inside. From across the street, a ragged boy saw me and yelled, “Muzungu!” Within moments, he was at my window, reaching his dirty fingers into my comfy little world. “Muzungu?” he asked helplessly. Bosco pulled ahead into a gas station, and I took that as my cue to roll my window up. The boy approached the other side of the vehicle where Bosco was able to talk to him. I looked at Kristoff -- who had already spent 6 weeks in Uganda -- and asked what to do. He said that the boy sees white people as a type of “savior” -- when they are around, they give away good things. If we gave the kid money, we’d be feeding into that and crippling him from earning things on his own. So, we don’t give money to beggars.

On the way, we passed through several IDP camps -- Internally Displaced Person. Baboons in the middle of the road are a common sight in Uganda, so when we drove upon a crouching shadow in the middle of the highway, I figured it was a baboon, like we’d seen all along. However, as we neared the figure, the baboon turned into a boy. He was skinny, dressed in rags, and glaring at our van. My heart shuddered and then burst to see such a sight. However, our driver didn’t slow down or move over. At first, I thought he was heartless and cruel; and I glanced back at Sandy whose eyes were the size of golf balls. She asked the question I was thinking, “What was that about?” Bosco answered, “Who knows? Maybe he was angry? Maybe he was mad (crazy)?” This most definitely wasn’t the most harrowing sight he’d ever seen, but it will be forever emblazoned on my mind. Once again, I realized the vast dichotomy between myself and the culture around me. First the beggar boy in Gulu and now the crazy boy on the road.

Once we got into the game park, we were greeted by wildlife EVERYWHERE. Within minutes, we saw water-buffalo, kobe, gazelles, antelope, warthogs, and giraffes! We even saw a family of elephants in a nearby valley! The “big daddy” elephant was running off another bull, so we got to see the standoff and the runoff! It was pretty cool! Then, once we neared the lodge, we came upon an elephant coming out of the woods, and apparently we startled the bee-jee-zus out of him because he slid on his heels, stopped for a moment, turned around, came back toward us, and went on his way. We were able to get some pretty good shots with him less than 30 feet away, too!

The lodge was really cool! When we pulled up to the front door, a doorman greeted us with cool scented towels and cold fruit juice. The decor was like something out of the 1800s -- dark woods on the floor, old world furniture. The lodge seemed to be made out of all local materials. Our room had a fantastic view of the Nile, and I woke up every morning thinking, “I can’t BELIEVE I’m looking at the NILE RIVER!!”

Every lunch and dinner was a four-course meal with soup, salad, main course, and dessert. We NEVER walked away hungry! In fact, by the end of our stay we didn’t FEEL like eating! Of course, the weather was quite hot and we didn’t have air conditioning in our rooms, but cold showers were readily available, soo...?

Day 4: Kid's Camp

The second day of camp was just as wonderful as the first. The kids were as receptive and sweet. At the end of the day, the boys and girls sang a good-bye song to us... it almost made Kimmie and I cry! But what REALLY tore at our hearts was when we were loading the van, some of the girls teared up and lingered by us. They were so precious. We gave them hugs and told them that we would be back again.

I spoke with Patrick today about his testimony...  He spent two years as a child soldier -- after watching his sisters raped and murdered, his parents tortured, and his brothers abducted.  After escaping the LRA, he found schools to give him work and an education and he worked his way back into society.  He has an AMAZING story that I pray is recorded some day.  If God wills it, I'd do it myself! 

Uganda Day 3: Kid's Camp in Gulu!!

(Side note... I'm posting these late, but I'll date them as if I posted them IN Africa.  Hope y'all can keep up!)

So today was kid’s camp and what a GREAT day it was! As always, we ran late, but Africans don’t work on a clock, so we were fine. The kids were fantastic. Ranging from 11-15 years old, they were so wonderful to work with--helping each other, participating in class and games, and always smiling.

The day was hot, but the school where we worked was perched atop a hill, so we were blessed with a nice breeze all day. I’m exhausted right now after all the excitement, but I’m content. At the end of the day, the kids herded us outside for a complimentary performance! As if the welcome song wasn’t enough, they pulled out the drums, the girls donned their dance skirts and bells, and they proceeded to put on a show! It amazed me at how cooperative they were with each other. The older kids -- girls and boys -- took turns leading the dances. Nobody got upset because they didn’t get a turn; and nobody commented on another kid’s direction. They just went with the flow and enjoyed performing. When we left that day, they chased after the van waving at us.