In Rwanda

We crossed the border south into Rwanda this morning, and followed a winding smoothly paved road around dozens of the "milles collines" (thousand hills), below terraced fields and above neatly squared off rice-paddies in the valleys.  We felt immediately welcomed by the surprise that Americans are not charged for entry visas, by the neatly organized and spacious border area (such a contrast to the Uganda/Kenya border with its clot of trucks and aggressive hawkers), and by the good tip from our border agent that in Rwanda they drive on the RIGHT.  Wow.  That's a little detail we might have missed until a collision.  The road passed many tiny settlements, each with large signs in Kinyarwandan proclaiming a "Jenocide" site in crude stenciling.  I suppose the country is small enough that everyone knows there way, because we have yet to encounter so much as a street sign . . . leading to lots of stops to ask questions, and lots of puzzled looks as our English does not go so far here.  

Our goal for the afternoon was the National Genocide Memorial in Gisozi, just outside Kigali. It was a powerful experience, extremely professional, factual, with personal stories, videos, photos.  What struck me most was the first-person plural point of view, rather than a dry historical style, the events were told "We were colonized . . . we were told . . . ".  There were copies of the identity cards issued by the Belgians in 1932 which began to divide Tutsi and Hutu, copies of the Hutu 10 commandments, the pamphlets that led up to an organized and systematic horror.  There was the report sent to the UN months prior to the genocide which warned of imminent disaster, and was ignored.  There were photos from the insides of churches where hundreds, even thousands, of bodies decomposed.  There were a few display cases of the farm implements, machetes, chains, weapons, and actual news footage of the carnage.  There were stories of heros, an elderly lady who hid potential victims in her animal sheds then pretended to be possessed in order to scare away the Interhamwe death squads, the man who managed to get 400 children to safety.  There was an entire room where hundreds of family photos were hung on strings of clips, poor quality serious typical photos, of relatives lost, real people not numbers.  There was a section devoted to the truth-and-reconciliation community-based court system called gacaca, where thousands and thousands of perpetrators have been tried.  The atmosphere was somber, with some stained glass windows and sculptures, and even gardens transforming the mass graves.  The message is clear:  this was a human tragedy on an unimaginable scale, the trauma has warped an entire generation, and we must keep the memory alive, educating and proclaiming as a means of prevention.  A disturbing history, but one we wanted our kids to encounter, something that happened within Luke's lifetime and not very far away.  Jesus said the truth would make us free.

Back in Kigali we explored, found the hotel upon with the "Hotel Rwanda" movie was based.  We bought cheese, crackers, and imported grapes and made an impromptu picnic by a spectacular fountain in a small park in the center of the city, which made us feel like we were real tourists in Europe instead of dusty missionaries in Africa (memorable!).  The city is clean, low-rise, quiet.  In our guidebook we found a reasonably cheap hotel, in an obscure corner of the city, up on a hill, peeling paint and past-its-prime but a good resting place for the night.

cold water and hot fires

Don't know how . . but our techno-savvy teens connected us to the
internet from the remote Bushara Island, a tiny non-electric sancutary
in the middle of a long winding finger of lake in the highlands of SW
Uganda. We are here in the dusk as a bonfire crackles, eating by
candlelight after a day of hiking around the island observing birds
and swimming in the freezing waters of the lake. The highlight of the
place is a rope swing, a long knotted rope tied to a tall eucalyptus
tree which arcs far out from shore, allowing the intrepid to drop
screaming into the water. We're here with the Massos, and the
combination of quiet, rest, simple tents, good food, warm night fires,
clear breezes and exercise, has been therapeutic. This is an oasis,
the entire small island owned and operated by the church of Uganda as
a retreat, where we can exist without being stared at, which is
perhaps the most relaxing thing of all.

Circling the Source

Tomorrow morning we will embark on our odyssey to take Luke and Caleb to school, the LONG WAY AROUND, counter-clockwise around Lake Victoria . . . first around the Rwenzoris, then south, through Queen Elizabeth Park for our first stop. Then southwest to Kabale where we will join the Massos (and we're bringing Ashley) for a few days on Bushara Island in Lake Bunyoni: cool air, otters, bracing lake water, tents, and sweet fellowship for the soul. Then further south, across the border and into Rwanda. Though we lived within a few hundred kilometers of the 1994 genocide and suffered through some of the after-effects of war in Congo and incursions to Uganda, we have never visited this country. We would like to encounter, as a family, both the memorials to the unspeakable loss and suffering, and the testimony to forgiveness and rebuilding this country has given the world. From Rwanda we head east, around the southern tip of Lake Victoria, to Mwanza, Tanzania, where our friends the Pecks work, and then on to Arusha where other friends the Jacobsons founded an incredible new mission hospital. The Pecks represent the generation following us: Rob was our intern in 1997 and is now a doctor with a family in TZ. The Jacobsons represent the generation we follow: Scott visited them when he was an intern in 1986! In both places we hope to have our vision expanded for medical missions in East Africa. And in between the two lies the Serengeti, the vast plains and rift escarpments of northern Tanzania, where we will camp in the game park and enjoy some family memory-making with the wild animals. From Arusha we turn north, back to Nairobi, and on to Kijabe for the New Parent Orientation as Caleb enrolls for 10th grade at RVA. Once he and Luke are settled, we go west, back to Kampala, and finally Budnibugyo!

The entire loop will take us three weeks. We will be driving thousands of kilometers, much of it on questionable roads, in places we have never been. We will completely encircle Lake Victoria, the source of the Nile, and quite possibly the cradle of humanity. We are praying for a rest from the day to day wear and pressure of Bundibugyo, for family focus, for good conversation, for love for each other. We would also hope for a minimum of mechanical problems, punctures, difficulty finding food or places to stay, encounters with bribe-seeking police or dangerous animals. Please join us in praying that we would go with God, the true Source of all life, and see Him in new ways as we see the wonder of what He hath wrought.

Praying Away

While we are away . . . not sure how often we will be able to post, so leaving you with a summary prayer request for our team:

Bundibugyo Team Praise Items

1.  Scott closed up the Kwejuna Project after five years of partnership with the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation.  The work will continue, but has now been put completely into the hands of Ugandans in the district.  Over this time period we enrolled 46,539 women in prenatal care, identified over a thousand as new HIV-positive patients who needed treatment, and increased health-unit-based deliveries three-fold.  Many heard the gospel, many were prayed for, and many more got a very concrete picture of God's love in the help extended to them.

2.  God blessed us with many sweet reunions this summer as we hosted former team mates, family members, and potential recruits.  We are asking God to call at least four of them back for long-term service.

3.  As we entered into a season of evaluation and planning for Christ School, God very graciously led us to two excellent consultants who reaffirmed the value of the school and encouraged us with vision for its potential, while also giving practical advice that would enable us to improve sustainability and performance.  The next step will be a visit from Paul and Ward in the first week of September, so pray God would continue to make the path forward clear in that time.

Bundibugyo Team Prayer items:

Our theme for 2009:  "By prayer and partnership, investing in emerging Ugandan leadership as we work together to show the compassion of Jesus to the poorest."  

1.  Pray that we would become, more and more, people of prayer, waiting upon God's powerful rescues, seeing His Kingdom come.

2.  Pray for our partnerships, specifically with large NGO's that help supply our nutrition programs (UNICEF, NuLife); and with other Christian churches and educational institutions that could assist us in improving Christ School.

3.  Pray for leadership to emerge in the church, in health, in agriculture, and most of all at Christ School, where we desperately seek a qualified committed Ugandan Head Teacher.  Pray that we would wisely formalize the boards of governance for the school in a way that protects the vision of raising up Christian leaders for Bundibugyo.

4.  Pray that we would not grow weary in showing the compassion of Jesus to the poorest . . . our patient load has dramatically increased in the last few months, and we are stretched to the limits.

Thanks for your prayers!

Quilting with the Spirit

I asked our team Wednsday to pray for me like the artisans sewing the temple curtains . . that I would be able to finish a quilt for Caleb that would send him off to boarding school blanketed by beauty and memories of home. I'd been working on it square by square over the last couple of weeks, but the deadline was fast approaching. I had cut out the centers of several favorite old T-shirts, including his only organized sports team, community soccer in Kindergarden . . plus scraps from old couch cushions, curtains, dresses. In the center I wanted to put a cross-stitch piece that I started FOURTEEN years ago when Caleb was a baby, and then laid aside. So between cutting and piecing fabrics and frantically stitching, I was getting pretty desperate to finish on time. Thursdays are the day I set aside for prayer, and this week I decided that I would consider the creative act of sewing to be one of prayer and love for Caleb as I went. And God met me in the process, in a focused day of grace. I had just enough of the fabric I had hoped to use for the borders and back. It all came together over about 8 solid hours of work yesterday, and I finished up today, in time to pack tomorrow. Whew. It is as beautiful as I hoped, not perfect (none of us are), but reflective of Caleb's unusual life and honoring to him. I'm glad God cares about the details of mothering, often giving me ideas for a meal out of sparse and mismatched ingredients. Or providing friends . . Ashley and Pat are busily sewing on NAME TAGS now while I recover from finishing the quilt and start to think about packing. The front room has become a good community gathering point as Luke and Caleb experiment on guitars and Julia on piano, some of us sew, and others come in and out to visit. We leave in about 36 hours. Lots to do.

Media Pressure

This summer, your prayers and the press are having some impact on justice in Bundibugyo and beyond.  Today the Monitor reported that as part of the investigation into the shortage of ARV drugs in Uganda, it became clear that HALF of the money allocated for their purchase was diverted by Ministry of Health into salaries for health workers and investments for the Ministry.  Now salaries and investments are important, but it should all be transparent, and based on a thoughtful prioritization.  Earlier in the week another paper reported that MOH had unofficially been instructing doctors NOT to start new patients on ARV's, something we've been hearing for months, but which no one wants to say in writing because no one wants to admit that we can't treat our patients.  Meanwhile we did get a supply here, to tide us over a bit longer, but the need is still acute.  

Also last week we linked to an editorial following up on an article about the delay in paying out medical worker compensation post-Ebola.  Yesterday it was announced that the compensation will finally be paid (more than a year late, but at least there is progress).  The widow and six children of the late Dr. Jonah will receive a substantial sum. . . equivalent to about 7 years' salary for a doctor in Uganda, or less than 7 months' salary for a doctor in America.  Luke put it in perspective that their entire life-sustaining-compensation package is TREE THOUSAND times less than Ronaldo's recent signing bonus as he switched football teams.  

So justice moves forward, slowly, pushed by truth.  Thanks to Amy and others who called newspapers and recruited prayer for these issues.

Healing, and far to go

Masika went home today, which was definitely my HIGH of the day (we do family highs and lows at dinner). When she arrived, 5 years down a road of neglect, malnutrition, and apathy, with her edematous limbs and peeling skin, I doubted she would survive. In fact she comes from the furthest town away from us within the district, and only came to our health center after being sent home from the main district hospital to die. I rather agreed with their prognosis when I saw her. For the first two weeks she only seemed to get worse. Her father was in jail for stealing cocoa, her mother had long ago abandoned her, and the two grandmothers who could have cared for her had clearly already failed. But God had other plans, and slowly rescued her. By the third week she was sitting, then standing, and for the last few days walking. Today she was trying to get into my pockets for candy, take my pen, or play with my wedding ring on my hand while I wrote. Her swelling melted away, and her life returned, with a measure of smile and peskiness. This one-month time-lapse resurrection is an amazing thing to see. We ended July with 35 severe acute malnutrition admissions (just shy of TRIPLE the average month's intake!!!). Frankly the sheer weight of misery and numbers of sad stories boggles my ability to engage fully with each one. But Masika stood out, partly because of her age, partly because of the distance her grandmothers came to get help, partly because of the miracle of her transformation. And partly because she represents hope for all the others, hope that if she can heal then they can too.

There are two tiny ones whose mothers have recently died, with dedicated fathers, unusual to see men caring for small children in this way. One disappeared for two weeks then came back, clearly not within the rules . . but her father explained that demons had haunted her from her dead mother, and he had to pay a witch doctor to get rid of them (it only cost about a dollar . . but I still challenged him with the truth that Jesus is more powerful than any demons, or any witch doctors). There are three with AIDS. There is one whose mother took her to have her baby teeth cut out of her gums in what is believed to be a cure for diarrhea. There are several with TB. There is one whose only misfortune is that her mother is pregnant and weaned her too early, a circumstance two of my own kids survived without ill effect in the environment of our relative wealth. There are a handful with sickle cell disease, and more who have washed up on the shore of a grandmother's care after a loose marriage finally shipwrecked. Luke rounded with me today (hence the decent phtotos) and it did not take long for him to comment: behind every sick child there seems to be a story of a family with relationships in distress. So true.

Graduation

Caleb graduated officially from Rwenzori Mission School today. Classes continue for two more days . . but Miss Sarah and Heidi leave tomorrow, so we wanted to get in a moment of closure and recognition. I'm thankful for our team who rallied to make it memorable: singing American and Ugandan national anthems, an exhortation to the graduate from his newest teacher (Nathan) based on the Biblical roots of his name, the Sarah-phim singing a hymm (Sarah, Nathan, and Luke . . we were missing Acacia!!), funny story take-offs of books by Annelise and me, a bag of show and tell memories, and a photo-spread time line of RMS over the last 15-ish years. Ashley pulled it all together and opened in prayer, and Scott closed praying for Caleb as he goes forward from us to RVA. There were balloons and snacks, the elements of any good party. Our kids have been incredibly blessed by the dedication of their teachers over the years, both the missionaries and the CSB teachers. We could not have stayed here so long without RMS, and Caleb would not be ready to launch out into the world of 10th grade without the work they have done. Pat was the team teacher when we arrived, and though she never taught Caleb officially, it was also a blessing to have her here today, representing the many others over the years (Heather, Sandy, Michelle, Natalee, Jenny, Kimiko, Becky, Catharine, Larissa, Jessica, Bethany, Becca, Matt, Kim, Amy, Scotticus . . as well as Ashley, Sarah, and Nathan). It takes a village! Thanks!

Making Peace

We asked the Lutjens and the Elwoods to consider teaching seminars on the Biblical approach to conflict as part of their visit. Pastor Lutjens took the lead, and we spent the bulk of the Saturday in the community center with between 50 and 60 people from the community. It just so happens that the evening before I had been present when a class of students organized a peaceful sit-down protest over issues they are unhappy with (mostly the lack of a class trip out of the district, something that is expensive and considered an unaffordable privilege by the administration when the school runs at a deficit . . . but deeply desired by the students in their S3 year . . this is the first class to miss the trip and they see themselves as fighting potential corruption by pushing for money they assume is there somewhere for them). We had also had just had a visit from a potentially hostile and powerful community leader related vaguely to the man who broke his ankle falling out of our tree; the leader was investigating the accident with a view towards opening a legal case against us. And we learned that morning of a conflict evolving between one of our community agriculture extension workers and her part-time hired farm worker, involving angry words and tears. Not to mention the fact that one of our watchmen was discovered stealing from the garden of mission tenants last week (the very property he's supposed to protect?). Oh, and you can add to that some unhappiness over decisions we've made in the last week as team leaders. And the general push-back from teenage kids who don't always agree with our plans. In other words, life is full of conflicts, and ours seems to be brimming over this week.

So we attended the seminar, not so much as organizers but as thirsty participants. And God faithfully spoke to me during the hours. The message I heard through the Lutjens was to remember that GOD IS IN CONTROL. In our conflicts we tend to want to work things out the way we see as best, and feel discouraged or anxious when we don't know what will happen. But Susan encouraged us to pray, and Kurt pointed us to Bible stories where God is at work even in adverse circumstances and through people who want to harm us. This was so encouraging to me, to be convicted of my lack of faith and be pointed towards God's sovereign care.

The other thing that was encouraging was the turn out. This was a no-free-lunch seminar, on a Saturday (market day). I told the Lutjens we'd be happy to get between 10 and 20 people coming . . but we had five times that many. And more than half were people I don't really know, people who don't just come to our events because they are our friends. We cast our net widely with invitations (Church of Uganda, Pentecostals, Catholics, Schools, our Local Council Political leaders, Health Staff . . in addition to the usual church and school and nutrition programs we work with), and people responded. I enjoyed seeing the mix, seeing a Christ School counselor meet a Health Center nurse, or a teacher from a local primary school ask questions of an elder in our church. Part of making peace is to strengthen community, so it was heartening to see the day doing just that.

Feeding the multitudes

Yesterday was our third quarterly Kwejuna Project food distribution of the year, and though we prepared for a substantial spike in the number of HIV-infected women who would appear, we were still stretched to the limit to serve the 306 who registered. Scott gave a small sermon with five mandazis (local breads) and two real skinny little lake fish from the market as visual aids, and we sensed the same need that Jesus' disciples did for some order in the chaos and miraculous provision from God to pour out His care on so many people. And God did, as He has each time in the past. The Kwejuna Project is a huge team effort, drawing in pastors, elders, lab techs, midwives, patients, peer counselors, community people, and missionaries. And this time, parents! The Elwoods (Nathan's parents) and the Lutjens (Heidi's parents) arrived Weds night, and by Thursday morning they were fully involved in the effort. In the tradition we started years ago with Bethany's dad, we simply asked them to pray in small groups for the women who wanted spiritual encouragement. Several times during the day, as I had to break the tragic news to a mom that her baby's HIV test was positive, I was able to then refer the weeping woman to the sympathetic arms of her peers and these caring prayer warriors who would lay hands on her and pray for God's comfort. In spite of those moments of sadness, the general atmosphere of the day is always that of a celebration. Celebrating continuing life. Celebrating community, that the women find themselves in a large company of people who face the same problems. Celebrating improbable connection across continents as we give calories for survival that have been donated by American friends. And this is a safe place for these women to celebrate with each other the triumph of a baby's negative test (dozens!), the hope of a healthy child to care for them as their own disease progresses in the future, the assurance of continuity in their family in spite of their own impending mortality.