Well-it is official. I'm staying in Uganda until September 7!
Approached about 1 month ago, the directors here asked me to consider sticking around a little longer. At first I was apprehensive-I miss home! Miss the mountains, the cooler weather, the familiarity. More than I ever dreamed that I would. But, I promised to pray about it and give them an answer later.
So later came, and God just kept opening doors. It turns out that to stay an extra 2 months, I still don't have to pay a change of flight fee (amazing!), and little logistically has to be done, because I'm still staying less than a year, so am still considered short term. And people here have been so encouraging. So many doors where opening up-I just couldn't ignore it!
Today I'm starting to tell the people here. It is exciting to tell them I want to stay and invest in them a bit longer!
Meredith, my teammate and fellow nurse here, I know would love to stay. But life awaits back in the States (sounds like a song!). We have both talked about how we wish we could lead multiple lives!!! One for Stateside, one for Uganda, and one for some exotic European location! If anyone knows how to do that, please let us know. We'd both be very interested :)
I don't know exactly what needs I'll have, but I do know I'm excited! Although things here have been really, really hard, God is good and faithful and has seen me through so much already. I'm looking forward to seeing what else He is going to do :)
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Omo Burn
Did you know handwashing clothes can be hazardous to your health? Or at least the skin on your knuckles and wrists!
If you are not used to handwashing clothes, your skin can get rubbed right off. It is called an Omo burn-Omo is a brand of laundry detergent. My goal (related to cleanliness!) while being here is to handwash my clothes without wounding myself. I'm trying to convince the kids that it has nothing to do with my lighter skin tone, and everything to do with the fact I simply don't wash clothes by hand at home! I feel like I'm back in biology lab-only this time I'm experimenting with my own skin!
On Sunday three of the teen girls named Rebecca, Betty and Esther came to the back of our house where they found me handwashing. I think they were quite intrigued, and after they watched me finish up (my proudest moment of the day was when Esther exclaimed "you really know how to wash!") we ended up spending the entire afternoon together. The best conversations I've had with all of those girls happened on Sunday.
Washing clothes is such a simple task. But there was relationship building that was instigated through that simple task of washing. Trying to bridge the gap between missionary and kid, American and Ugandan, black and white is very complicated and time intensive. But maybe with a few more laundering sessions, plus Lugada lessons-that gap can become a little smaller.
A peer named Moses said to me several days ago, "hey Sarah, if you keep learning to cook over charcoal, wash your clothes, and speak Luganda-maybe you can become more like us!" I hope so :)
"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28
If you are not used to handwashing clothes, your skin can get rubbed right off. It is called an Omo burn-Omo is a brand of laundry detergent. My goal (related to cleanliness!) while being here is to handwash my clothes without wounding myself. I'm trying to convince the kids that it has nothing to do with my lighter skin tone, and everything to do with the fact I simply don't wash clothes by hand at home! I feel like I'm back in biology lab-only this time I'm experimenting with my own skin!
On Sunday three of the teen girls named Rebecca, Betty and Esther came to the back of our house where they found me handwashing. I think they were quite intrigued, and after they watched me finish up (my proudest moment of the day was when Esther exclaimed "you really know how to wash!") we ended up spending the entire afternoon together. The best conversations I've had with all of those girls happened on Sunday.
Washing clothes is such a simple task. But there was relationship building that was instigated through that simple task of washing. Trying to bridge the gap between missionary and kid, American and Ugandan, black and white is very complicated and time intensive. But maybe with a few more laundering sessions, plus Lugada lessons-that gap can become a little smaller.
A peer named Moses said to me several days ago, "hey Sarah, if you keep learning to cook over charcoal, wash your clothes, and speak Luganda-maybe you can become more like us!" I hope so :)
"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28
No place to lay their head-Save the concrete floor
One of our girls, named Gloria, is having lots of trouble.
This year (2011) alone, she has been admitted to the hospital twice and taken in to be assessed by hospital staff twice. We are planning to take her again on Thursday to try a procedure called postural drainage (for those interested in medical jargon!). Through our many interactions at the hospital, I am getting to know what life "inside" is like.
Each room at Buikwe hospital (the one closest to us) holds around 20 patients in each room. The room measures about 35 feet squared, with metal framed single beds around. In the pediatric ward it is not uncommon for 2-3 patients to share a single sized bed.
When you bring a patient to the hospital, the family is responsible for bringing linens and clothes for the sick. None of this is provided.
The sick must have their daily needs met. The nursing staff is too sparse to do things like feed, change, bathe, and even give medications to their patients. So family is responsible for all these things. These caregivers are allowed to stay at the hospital. So they get accommodations. A spot on the concrete floor covered by a straw mat brought from home. Porridge for breakfast, Posho (corn meal) and beans for lunch and dinner every day. Same as the patients. For around 7,000 Ugandan shillings equal to about $3.50 American dollars daily. Which is often too expensive for many families in our area to afford.
The hospital is a hard place, no matter where in the world you are. But the hospitals I've been at around GSF have frustrated and disgusted me. But they make me think of Jesus.
Those are the kinds of places I've imagined Jesus would choose to go. The crowded, the exhausting, the hard (literally and figuratively!). I don't really know how to make that realization fit into my experience. Maybe some love via a smile? Love via a handshake? Love via a Lugandan greeting to a sick kid or wiped-out mom? I'm glad I still have some time here to figure that one out.
This year (2011) alone, she has been admitted to the hospital twice and taken in to be assessed by hospital staff twice. We are planning to take her again on Thursday to try a procedure called postural drainage (for those interested in medical jargon!). Through our many interactions at the hospital, I am getting to know what life "inside" is like.
Each room at Buikwe hospital (the one closest to us) holds around 20 patients in each room. The room measures about 35 feet squared, with metal framed single beds around. In the pediatric ward it is not uncommon for 2-3 patients to share a single sized bed.
When you bring a patient to the hospital, the family is responsible for bringing linens and clothes for the sick. None of this is provided.
The sick must have their daily needs met. The nursing staff is too sparse to do things like feed, change, bathe, and even give medications to their patients. So family is responsible for all these things. These caregivers are allowed to stay at the hospital. So they get accommodations. A spot on the concrete floor covered by a straw mat brought from home. Porridge for breakfast, Posho (corn meal) and beans for lunch and dinner every day. Same as the patients. For around 7,000 Ugandan shillings equal to about $3.50 American dollars daily. Which is often too expensive for many families in our area to afford.
The hospital is a hard place, no matter where in the world you are. But the hospitals I've been at around GSF have frustrated and disgusted me. But they make me think of Jesus.
Those are the kinds of places I've imagined Jesus would choose to go. The crowded, the exhausting, the hard (literally and figuratively!). I don't really know how to make that realization fit into my experience. Maybe some love via a smile? Love via a handshake? Love via a Lugandan greeting to a sick kid or wiped-out mom? I'm glad I still have some time here to figure that one out.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Define strength: Milly
A few days ago I had an interesting conversation with our fellow nurse, Nurse Milly. The two of us were walking together and she began to talk to me about her life in Sudan. We have a good relationship, but I can probably count on one hand how many times we've talked about non-medical things. Even now as I reflect, I cannot think why this conversation came up. But somehow it did.
Milly is Sudanese. She grew up there, but moved here to Uganda many years ago. She told me she doesn't keep up too much with the political things happening in her home country, because "it makes me so sad."
When she was in secondary school (equals high school in the States), rebels came to their school. She told me she jumped out of a window and ran, in the night, all the way home. She wasn't sure of the distance, but she ran for days. DAYS. She doesn't know what happened to any of her classmates, but "the wives of rebels don't usually live long." She doesn't know of any one else who survived.
Life here is humbling. I get upset because my lunch gets interrupted 20 times every day, or internet sucks here, or my camera has short battery life. But my co-worker lost every peer she knew when she was 13 years old. And then came to Uganda, worked her way through school and has become a nurse. She provides for herself and her daughter by working 5-7 days a week. And she lives without electricity. Or internet. Or a digital camera.
One of the biggest heartaches of mine is hearing that some people here believe that they are inferior to "mzungus," the whites. But more often than not, I feel like the inferior one. Standing beside Milly is a privilege. I have a lot to learn about living from the people around me.
"Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. If the foot days, 'I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,' that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, 'I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,' would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything? ... ALL OF YOU TOGETHER ARE CHRIST'S BODY, AND EACH OF YOU IS A PART OF IT." -1 Corinthians 12:14-17, 27
Milly is Sudanese. She grew up there, but moved here to Uganda many years ago. She told me she doesn't keep up too much with the political things happening in her home country, because "it makes me so sad."
When she was in secondary school (equals high school in the States), rebels came to their school. She told me she jumped out of a window and ran, in the night, all the way home. She wasn't sure of the distance, but she ran for days. DAYS. She doesn't know what happened to any of her classmates, but "the wives of rebels don't usually live long." She doesn't know of any one else who survived.
Life here is humbling. I get upset because my lunch gets interrupted 20 times every day, or internet sucks here, or my camera has short battery life. But my co-worker lost every peer she knew when she was 13 years old. And then came to Uganda, worked her way through school and has become a nurse. She provides for herself and her daughter by working 5-7 days a week. And she lives without electricity. Or internet. Or a digital camera.
One of the biggest heartaches of mine is hearing that some people here believe that they are inferior to "mzungus," the whites. But more often than not, I feel like the inferior one. Standing beside Milly is a privilege. I have a lot to learn about living from the people around me.
"Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. If the foot days, 'I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,' that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, 'I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,' would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything? ... ALL OF YOU TOGETHER ARE CHRIST'S BODY, AND EACH OF YOU IS A PART OF IT." -1 Corinthians 12:14-17, 27
Friday, February 4, 2011
Emmanuel
Over a month since I've written! Too much has happened!
Since our CHRISTmas in Africa, we enjoyed a New Year's celebration with roasted goat meat and maize around a bonfire. I learned some dance moves and made a fool out of myself. One of the older teens here named Barbara worked for almost the whole night to teach me one move! I'm a slow learner ;)
My teammate Meredith and I went to Rwanda for a region wide AIM (Africa Inland Mission) conference. It was a BEAUTIFUL place, albeit expensive! During the conference I was challenged to think more about what God may be calling me to and what my response will be to the hard things. Many of you will be pleased to hear that we sung lots of hymns-and I LIKED it! ;)
While away at Rwanda-one of our little boys named Emmanuel died. He fell, hit his head and sustained a brain injury. He died within a day. It was quite a shock to all of us. Mere and I didn't make it back in time for his burial. That was probably the most difficult part of being away.
We heard the news of Emma's death just before a session at the conference. More than a little shell shocked we walked in late to the worship where we sang a song that repeated over and over "Emmanuel, God is with us." Mere and I made eye contact-that song has a new meaning for all of us at GSF now.
Since our CHRISTmas in Africa, we enjoyed a New Year's celebration with roasted goat meat and maize around a bonfire. I learned some dance moves and made a fool out of myself. One of the older teens here named Barbara worked for almost the whole night to teach me one move! I'm a slow learner ;)
My teammate Meredith and I went to Rwanda for a region wide AIM (Africa Inland Mission) conference. It was a BEAUTIFUL place, albeit expensive! During the conference I was challenged to think more about what God may be calling me to and what my response will be to the hard things. Many of you will be pleased to hear that we sung lots of hymns-and I LIKED it! ;)
While away at Rwanda-one of our little boys named Emmanuel died. He fell, hit his head and sustained a brain injury. He died within a day. It was quite a shock to all of us. Mere and I didn't make it back in time for his burial. That was probably the most difficult part of being away.
We heard the news of Emma's death just before a session at the conference. More than a little shell shocked we walked in late to the worship where we sang a song that repeated over and over "Emmanuel, God is with us." Mere and I made eye contact-that song has a new meaning for all of us at GSF now.
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