Feature Presentation: Brutal Beauty, or Scott&Jennifer's Bday Adventure, or Motorcycle Blogs

Saturday evening our team surprised us with a little video whipped up in honor of Scott’s Birthday, entitled “Feature Presentation”. The inspiration came from Michael, Josh, and Scotticus, with the non-Myhre kids and Annelise providing more ideas (no theme was rejected, as Michael said) and most of the acting. The story involved Scott and Jennifer heading off for the Birthday Trip to the Semliki Safari Lodge. Joe played Scott and kept saying “the security risk is very low” in reference to Scott’s reassuring assessment at last team meeting. Acacia played me with a wild wig of hair, and all the smaller children were an assortment of leopards, panthers, princesses, and kids coming to the rescue from Michael, a fire-breathing dragon who captured us en route. In the special feature cast interviews, they explained this symbolism had to do with Scott’s intimate and sometimes disastrous relationship with fire. It was hysterical, and we felt very loved by the effort involved and the community event of everyone coming to the screening the night before we left. Well, we did not encounter any fire-breathing dragons on the real trip, but it turned out the drama did foreshadow the real thing. This is November, which means rain, which means mud. Twice in the last week to ten days the road has been closed due to huge trucks stuck in the mud on hairpin mountain turns blocking other vehicles from passing. Being good, stubborn, can-do, frontier missionaries, we said to everyone “We desperately need a break and we ARE going to get to the lodge, come hell or high water.” Well, it turned out that we encountered quite a bit of both. To avoid the truck-clogged mountain pass road, we decided to adventure forth on Scott’s motorcycle and take a little-used route that runs through the Semliki River Valley north to Rebesingo, then cut back down towards the lodge. We had tried this route twice before, coming from the other direction, and it had always seemed a bit vague and tentatively even passable. But coming from the southwest, and using a motorcycle, we were sure it would be a good idea. So Sunday mid morning we headed off, packing tools and spare tubes and a change of clothes into a heavy back-pack, wearing gum boots and raincoats and zooming away. Much of the trip was lovely. The road skirts the mountain range’s northern roots, and winds through a cattle-strewn grassland. About a third of the way into the less-traveled part, we began to follow behind another small motorcycle which gave us confidence. When the road was cut through by a river at one point we stopped to eye the steep banks and the herd of cattle lower than our feet drinking the river water . . . When our guardian angel boda drivers waved to us to show us a more gradual path down and the best place to ford the river. We felt optimistic and well cared for. But the road kept getting smaller and smaller until it was barely a path, and we came upon the boda pair again. We could not find a shared language in which to communicate more than the fact that they were heading in the same direction, and they advised us to skirt the swamp they were enmired within. So for about half an hour we tried to find an alternate route while they struggled through the quagmire, but eventually we came to the conclusion that there was no way around, and that we’d have to follow. If they could do it couldn’t we? Well, their machine was half the weight (or less) of ours. We both managed to get through, but barely. I knew we were in trouble when the mud sucked the boots right off my feet, and it took all my counterweight and strength to pull them out with my hands. By that time I had given up on boots and we were both up over our knees in mud, a gooey, slippery, bottomless, quick-sand like mud that threatened to swallow the motorcycle. It stretched out as far as we could walk in every direction. If Scott were any less strong we might be there still. A few inches at a time we pushed and shoved and pulled and gasped, until we made it through the worst hundred yards or so. We were exhausted and coated with mud, but we pressed on. Then it started to rain, and the track we were following became as slippery as snow. We wiped out twice, bruises but no serious injuries. Our short-cut turned a 2 1/2 hour trip into a 5 1/2 hour survival odyssey. If you have never sat on a motorcyle for over 5 hours (and not more than 30 seconds of that time on any smooth or firm road surface) . . . Then don’t. Many times the road petered out into a confusing crossing pattern of cattle paths, or disappeared beneath ponds of water. Many times we were so sore and tired we weren’t sure we would make it. The brutality of the trip made the beauty of the lodge even more dramatic. There were only two other guests whom we barely saw, so we had a wonderful evening to reconnect as a couple, read, talk, eat, sleep, and sleep some more. Our tent had a wooden floor with oriental rug, firm poster bed, warm shower, and a view of multiple species of monkeys and birds cavorting in the trees. We heard the breathy, throaty call of lions in the early morning, then went back to sleep, secure in our house-like tent. This afternoon we came back by the road-more-traveled . . No picnic amidst the muddy tracks and stony jolts, but nothing like the challenge of the day before. Was it worth it? Definitely. We will read some verses (like Psalm 69) about rescue from the miry pit with new feeling now. Will we do it again? No, or at least not until we forget the pain of this trip! We are thankful to our great team for caring for out kids while we got away, thankful to the unlikely angels who offered us the stay and the others who guided us on the path. Thankful that there are evenings of respite in this life of struggle. And mostly thankful that we were in it together.

Of Weariness and War, heading for the broom tree

Sometimes the spiritual nature of the war for this world is unmasked, sometimes by the war in my own heart.  Weariness, plodding, irritability, rain.  Yesterday in thinking about the last couple of weeks it’s no surprise that like Elijah I want to run to the wilderness and feel sorry for myself.  Remember the dramatic show-down with the prophets of Baal, fire and rain and blood and speed?    Nothing quite that showy has happened in Nyahuka, but we have had a pretty intense stretch.  First, the whole Jonah show-down, his decision to return, his testimony, his presence.  I stopped teaching Jack and Julia math as soon as our new teacher came two weeks ago. . . And the pediatric ward immediately seemed to become twice as busy, as if the patients just doubled to take up the time that was freed.  Then it was touch-and-go with one of our dear team mates dealing with physical pain and imminent departure and intense emotions.  Meanwhile a visit from our Human Resources Director, encouraging but also the reality of having a day to day observer of our less than ideal family dynamics as he graciously put up with us in our home, and the reality that his visit puts everyone in the slightly edgy mode of thinking about their futures.  Then we’re trying to help Luke process his plan for CSB next year, what classes to take and whether to sit for the national Ugandan exams.  And did I mention that we heard a little spate of gunfire that was not worrisome in itself (no reports of a real attack, no one seems worried around us) it brought up memories of old insecurity and the current situation that we have a BIG team here, most of whom have not had to live through rebel rumors and reality before.  To make the picture complete, several team members have been sick, including one child who was frighteningly ill Thursday evening with pneumonia, now improving.

If you read the next chapter (1 Kings 19), you’ll see that all of those realities take their toll, even though in every case God has been faithful:  Jonah is posted and finally got his salary for the first time this year, patients are surviving, our team mate made it safely to the US, our Human Resources director had a great visit, we’re safely protected by a formidable UPDF presence, the crisis evening of sickness passed and all are back on the road to health.  But like Elijah, I’m wiped out.  

So like Elijah, Scott and I are escaping to the wilderness.  Some angels in disguise from the nearest Safari Lodge, a lovely tented camp for rich tourists, offered us a free night, and we have prevailed upon two of our single team mates to stay with the kids while we go tomorrow for Scott’s birthday.  Like Elijah we’re hoping for good food, lots of sleep, and time to hear the still small voice of God’s real presence.  

Small things new

“Christians have been invited to live beyond triumphalism and despair, spending ourselves for a cause we firmly believe will win in the end.  In a vision lovely enough to break a person’s heart, John shows us (in Rev 21) that heaven comes to us and renews this world.”  (C. Plantinga)

A little glimpse of heart-breaking loveliness in, of all places, the AIDS clinic.  I didn’t recognize my patient—my handwriting was all over his chart, but I just couldn’t place the kid in my mind.  Then I realized he’d gained more than five pounds (more than a 20% increase for his small body!) in the last month or so since he started antiretrovirals, the specific medicine that treats the HIV virus.  This toddler was sitting on his mom’s lap playing peek-a-boo with a pair of tattered shorts worn, of all places, over his head. He wasn’t actually sitting, he was squirming, laughing, and engaging my eye whenever I looked up from the papers.  Between the rounded cheeks and the perky playfulness I did not recognize the struggling lethargic child of two months ago.  A small thing, but being made new, a taste of redemption in a game of peek-a-boo.  Remember Mumbere, the only picture his grandmother has of his dead mother?  Another little picture as he snuggled into her side, clearly attached and at home, no longer the pitiful crying baby that his dying mother could not cope with, now he feels somehow safe and at home.  The AIDS clinic this week:  I am never too much tempted towards triumphalism in that epicenter of suffering, but neither was I crushed by despair.  We are spent, literally, day by day, but thankful for small things picturing newness, reminding us all to hope.

the tribe

Here's latest visual of the Team ... at the airstrip, sending off Ward and Joy...

Follow-Up: Pediatric-Maternity Building Needs

Should we be surprised by God's generous provisions? Though He provides ... again and again... our small faith often wavers in light of our current needs. After having listed the LARGE remaining financial need for finishing our Pediatric-Maternity Ward Project (see Oct 24 posting)...we have now received $24,000 to help us finish that project (considerably in excess of our anticipated needs). O, me of little faith.

More confirmation, small mercies

During Jonah’s acceptance speech he said his first priority was to get a nurse-anesthetist posted to Nyahuka so that he could start doing emergency C-sections.  Not two hours passed before he received a phone call:  the sister of one of the nursing students we chose in 1997 for sponsorship called to say she had just finished further studies in anesthesia.  She had come back to the district to work but later was chosen for this anesthesia course, and we had not seen her in over a year, so she certainly wasn’t on our minds.  Yet at the very hour she was needed her sister called Jonah to help arrange transport for her as she was coming from school this weekend to return to work in Nyahuka!  Jonah was so amazed by God’s providence and timing he zipped up on his motorcycle, glowing, to share the news.  As I was making rounds I found a rather functional wheelchair stashed in the hall.  It turns out that one of the senior nurses, a man whom I had struggled to work with, took it upon himself to obtain this piece of equipment from who knows what depths of storage at Bundibugyo hospital, so that Kabasunguzi Grace could be taken out in the sun and move a bit after months of being bed-ridden.  Small mercies, the process of redemption continues, prayer pushing back evil.  Three separate people have pledged considerable chunks of money for the needs of the hospital; and another friend’s brother’s client’s contacts in a pharmaceutical company may be supplying vitamins.  O me of little faith, when such a Force is on the move.

This Time a Happy Ending

Jonah is the new In-Charge Doctor for Nyahuka Health Center IV. Like Jacob he worked seven long years for this moment, through many setbacks and struggles. Today the entire staff gathered for a rather formal time of speeches acknowledging the changing of the guard. The outgoing in-charge, a senior medical assistant, graciously confirmed his gladness to hand over to a doctor, asked the staff to forgive anything he had done wrong, and affirmed his readiness to work in partnership with Jonah. His speech and attitude were amazingly positive. Scott spoke about Jonah’s history in the District and the joy of welcoming him home to address the injustice of inadequate health care for Bundibugyo, the picture of redemption in this process of the world being set right. Jonah emphasized that only the power of prayer had brought him through. He was also remarkably humble, giving God the glory, and telling the staff that his goal was to serve his people. In his moment of receiving power, he wisely pointed to God as the only source of all he had received. Many of you reading this blog are the ones who prayed. Be thankful with us today! The chairman of the management committee told a proverb: water that is not in your house cannot quench your thirst, meaning that past doctors did not want to stay in Bundibugyo but all hope that Jonah as a son of this place will be in the house and available. Interestingly, the district leadership did not attend. Though the doctor had called Scott and promised to come, today he sent a message that he lacked transportation. This is a very weak excuse, and evidence once again of the poor reception Jonah has received from those in control now. He is a threat to the system and we have not seen the last of the battle. Ward Shope, our visiting Director of Human Resources from WHM-Philadelphia, attended part of the ceremony, which was meaningful to us as the culmination of something we have also worked for for seven years. God is gracious, to bring all of that together at the right hour! Ward is counseling with each missionary as part of his ongoing care for teams in the field. We are trying to give him a flavorful sample of Bundibugyo life and ministry which will enable him to manage personnel more effectively. He attended Christ School chapel yesterday which gave him a picture of how most of the team pulls together to disciple students, and saw the staff gather to send Joy off in prayer as she returns for medical care for her back next week. In other news: the dog’s brain turned out to be positive for rabies. Most of the folks showed up for their final vaccine in the five dose series this week, but the girl I was most concerned about was absent, so we sent people to find her. We are hopeful that God will take our meager resources (vaccines procured late, no immune globulin) and like the five loaves multiply the effect to protect these people. And through searching medical literature on the internet I’m still trying to find help for Kabasunguzi Grace. She’s slightly better but I’m praying this weekend about whether to gamble on a course of steroids (prednisone) next week. Every victory is really just the beginning of the next stage of the fight. . . . So stay with us, and with Jonah.

Showdown Take Two: Today is the Day

Jonah arrived yesterday about noon—nothing is easy, he had tried to come the day before but was turned back at the last section of the road by people who advised him the road was insecure for travel at night.  Then yesterday morning he hitched a ride with the Chedesters bringing our Human Resources Director to visit from America . . And again the road was blocked by a truck stuck in the mud so that they had to walk a short distance from one vehicle blocked on one side of the mountains to another vehicle past the problem on the other side!  But he came directly to the health center and was pleased to be greeted enthusiastically by the staff.  Later the district director called Scott and the whole hand-over of authority is set for today.  Stay tuned.  

But then, there is always the unexpected

We watched the 1957 movie “Bridge on the River Kwai” this week, a fascinating WWII conflict of Japanese, British, and American culture as prisoners of war struggle to survive in the jungle. Many parallels to the spiritual war, to our determination to build something helpful and lasting, to the physical challenges of life on the edge of death. Many times during the movie, one of the soldiers will make a plan and then concede: “But then, there is always the unexpected.” Sometimes the unexpected is a gift. Yesterday in the midst of many things one of the kids told me there was a woman waiting in the kitubbi, our grass thatched circular porch. A number of other patients and people with problems had been by that day, and I was working on something else for a team member, so I relayed a message back out that she’d have to wait, assuming it was yet one more patient. Then our cow got out of her pasture and was kicking feistily in the yard, an Irish aid worker and his girlfriend arrived for a meeting I was late to, I was trying to settle Julia who had an unexpected fever . . . And nearly forgot her until I was walking out to the meeting and saw her still sitting patiently waiting. I recognized her as the mother of Dixon, one of our little AIDS patients who had died earlier this year. His picture was in one of our prayer letters, a frail all-eyes baby whom we pulled back from the brink of death for a while. He spent long weeks in the hospital and we got to know his mother. When Dixon died, we visited her home in a crowded muddy camp left over from the ADF days, and saw his grave. He was her fourth child, and the fourth to die, and she had been chased from her husband’s family to live with her relatives. A month or two after his death she asked me for a small loan to start a business of buying rice in Congo and selling it in Uganda, to support herself, a major problem for an HIV positive woman with no husband or children. So I leant her about $25, enough to buy rice in bulk and start growing a little business. I told her that when she was making enough profit to keep the business going, she should bring half of the loan back to help someone else. The other half I’d consider a gift. Now I’ve tried that scheme with many people who have more education, strength, resource, math skill, than this woman. And I was content to just let that little bit of money go for her survival. Months passed, I really forgot all about it, I greeted her at the hospital when she came for her regular care, but never mentioned the business. Even when I saw her in the kitubbi I assumed she would be asking for some help for a sickness. But yesterday she said quietly that she’d brought me “a little food from her business” and then pulled out of her bag a crumpled wad of notes and coins that added up to the loan. The unexpected, a gift to build my faith in redemption. The unexpected usually feels like the unwanted I’m afraid. Jonah is due back in the district on Tuesday, the 31rst, for the promised hand-over of Nyahuka Health Center into his charge on Wednesday the 1rst. Yesterday we heard confirmation of a rumor that one of the only two doctors left in the district (another two have left this year) had taken a job in Kampala with an NGO. So will Jonah really be posted to Nyahuka if only one doctor is left at the district hospital? The patient volume is nearly identical so one could see it as a fair division of labor, but I’m afraid that the general perception is that no doctor would be posted out peripherally without at least three doctors centrally. Another unexpected wrinkle. Our season of welcoming new team members (two families and four singles in the last few months) has also been unexpectedly disrupted by the impending early departure of one of our single young women, a teacher at Christ School. She has bravely endured unexpected, unexplained back pain since June and together we made the difficult decision that it was time for better medical care. Since last January she has grown attached to the community of the team and the school; she leaves without knowing if or when she will be well enough for return. A heaviness for all our hearts. Time to be reminded, the unexpected is an illusion based on our position trapped in time, the basis for living by faith. If we could see then we would know that nothing surprises God, that He answers our prayers the way we would choose if we could see all that He knows. For Him, there is no unexpected.

Pediatric – Maternity Building: Construction Update (HELP!)

Our vision: Basic, essential, appropriate medical care for mothers and children living in the vicinity of World Harvest Mission – Bundibuygo. Three years ago, we decided that a prerequisite to achieving this vision (in addition to the arrival of Dr. Jonah!), is a more spacious (clean!!) building—and the Combined Pediatric-Maternity Building concept was born. Our template: a neurosurgical ward of the CURE Hospital in Mbale, Uganda where we send many of our hydrocephalic patients. We visited this facility about two years ago, got the blueprints, and began to modify for our context (expanded to ~3000 sq. ft.) Two generous donors combined to give ~$63,000….our estimate to complete the building (including furniture and solar electricity). Our Problem: Call it poor planning, if you like….mostly it is a lack of experience building on this scale. Additionally, we decided to splurge on a beautiful industrial-strength porcelain tile floor which pushed the costs far beyond our original estimates. What the locals are saying (according to one of the elders)…“This is the nicest building in the district. We’re sure glad Dr. Scott is building it...if our local contractors built it, all that money would have been ‘eaten’…" Bottom line….we’ve shot our wad of $63,000 and have the following phases yet unfinished: 1. Windows: screened with glass louvers (estim $1400) 2. Doors: interior/exterior (estim $830) 3. Final painting: (estim $900) 4. Verandah: (estim $1500) 5. Plumbing (sinks/elevated water tank/water lines/etc): (estim $2300) 6. Basic furnishings: beds (~35), desks, chairs, cupboards, shelves, trolleys (estim $ 4000) 7. Solar Photovoltaic Electric system (estim ~$8,000) TOTAL NEED: $18,930 If you are interested, let us know by e-mail (drsmyhre@yahoo.com) We would like to keep the momentum of construction moving ahead.