Father’s Day is No Laughing Matter

This Father’s day was my favorite. We now have three kids that demand our attention all day and all night. It is hard work, requiring more of my time than running a school and working at a health center combined. It wears me out- the tremendous energy input, the insatiable demands and the constant decision-making regarding problems I have no idea how to solve. Is this child sick? How can I convince them to eat healthy food- even if it is the 4^th time we are eating pumpkin that Amy has cleverly disguised? Why do they keep waking up in the middle of the night? Who hit who first? Whose toy is this? How much time should each get to have to play with this favorite toy? How do you convince them that mosquito nets are fun? What filthy toy, floor or child is ok for them to play with? How do I help them extend grace when children do things to them without knowing it is hurtful? How do I give them individual time when 4 people are waiting in the katubi with problems they need help with? Do I read a Bible story tonight about a boy or a girl?

Despite all of these complicated processes, I would not trade it for the world. My children are fast becoming my best friends. I love walks to the river, song time, playing “The Missing Cake,” crashing cars and making crafts with them. They constantly remind me that God loves me, God’s kingdom is here, we need to share His love with everyone, and it does not have to be complicated. Interestingly, the above complicated questions are the same ones I ask myself regarding our ministry to the people of Bundibugyo everyday. Thanks for the training munchkins!

This father’s day, they reminded me of these truths through a puppet show musical that described our life in Bundibugyo. An excellent production, especially for the young and up-in-coming Director Lillian Joy. Despite the warning on the sign, we laughed a lot with tears of joy streaming on our faces.

In addition to these little ones making fatherhood so precious, I am filled with appreciation for my dad and father-in-law. They have constantly sought to love me, encourage me and guide me in the trials of life. I am filled with fond memories of teetering on canyon walls and treating HIV patients in Africa with my dad and killing rattle snakes and sandboarding with my dad-in law. I constantly refer back to advice given to me through the years and constant reminders that God will provide, we are blessed to bless others and I am loved. They are a great joy for me. This joy makes being in the heart of Africa thousands of miles, three airplane rides, an 8-hour car ride and 3 days away especially hard this week.

Thankfully, my mother-in-law gave me a e-book for my nook before we moved. The book is entitled Fathered by God. What an amazing concept. God wants to “father” us. I am still learning what “to father” means, but I am discovering that I need and desire it. I need daily help regarding problems I have no clue how to handle. I need guidance in decisions that can lead to terrific and potentially terrible outcomes. I need encouragement and sometimes a small push to lead. I need to know I am protected and provided for so I can seek to protect and provide for others. I need someone to remind me to stop and see the beauty that surrounds me as I am being swallowed by the task. God desires to give this to me! His grace allows me to seek Him despite my brokenness. It even allows me “to father” despite the barriers of my own selfishness. I have a close friend, confidant and encourager here with me in the heart of Africa. I have never needed it so much. I also have never felt it so much.

6 minute ride to Bundibugyo

Having a few moments to put together some initial video footage and high speed internet to upload, we thought we would share with you our inaugural drive into Bundibugyo.

Thanks for journeying with us.

talpa

Life in Bundi- 3months and counting!

Here are a few photos. Please see our Photo Gallery for some more. Thankful for your encouragement and prayers!

Happy Birthday Aidan!

Our little guy, Aidan has now passed the 6 month mark of life! He has now spent more days in Africa than in America. At a shop that sells cold sodas (a real treat!) in Bundibugyo Town, a gregarious Ugandan remarked that Aidan should have dual citizenship. Not sure that it is possible, but it does make me wonder how his early days, months, years spent here will mark his life.

Which brings me to think about babies, children, and survival here.

From what I understand, when a woman gives birth, a customary greeting is “Webele Kwejuna” or “Thank you for surviving.” In this rural area of Uganda, it is documented that the death rate for infants is 33% and the under 5 child mortality rate is 1/5 children. The Myrhes suggest that this is an underestimation, that perhaps it is more like 2/5 children die here before they reach the age of 5.

Many of the children that come to the health center come due to critical malnourishment. Travis has remarked that there may be an infant that is thriving in the same bed with a sibling a year older that is malnourished. It is not uncommon for a woman to become pregnant while she still has a young infant, so when she delivers (or as they say “produces”) the baby, the older infant no longer gets the good nutrition from the breastmilk and thus, becomes malnourished. Our 6 month Aidan rivals in size many of these malnourished two year olds.

And that is what motivates the BundiNutrition team here.

This team of WHM missionaries and Ugandan workers address malnutrition in three ways. First, they treat severe malnutrition. This is when a child weighs less than 25% of the minimal weight he or she should. For example, a typical six month old child should weigh between 14-16 pounds. This means a severely malnourished six month old weighs less than 9 pounds. Too often, eight to twelve month olds here weigh less than 8 pounds. In the health center now, there are several two year olds that weigh less than 12 pounds. There is an eight year old that weighs 24 pounds. These little ones that are severely malnourished are admitted into the health center, given a high protein formula, weighed daily, and when they are able to eat solid foods, they are given eggs and beans. They are kept on this diet and under supervision until they reach their target minimal weight to survive. This usually takes about a month.

The second stage in addressing malnutrition is to enroll them in an outpatient program where they come twice a month to be weighed, assessed, and receive a locally-made ground-nut/meringa paste and soy flour. This is a ten-week program.

The third effort is the Demonstration Garden Education and Matiti Goat Project. The Demonstration Garden introduces ways to grow nutritious, high-yielding foods. Most people in Bundibugyo have a garden, so it is a great way to encourage them to use their rich land to produce something more than the poorly-nutritious, high-carbohydrate roots that are typically grown and eaten. Included in this effort is the chicken project, a favorite of mine, which I will go into more depth on a different day. Nonetheless, the goal is to have an egg per child per day.

The Matiti Goat Project is the blood, sweat and tears of so many people over years. And lives have been rescued as a result. The Matiti Goat Program's goal is to give families that have children who struggle with malnutrition a constant source of protein through goat milk. These children include those who have been in the severe malnutrition program as well as orphans and those whose mother is HIV positive. During the last goat distribution, I was moved by the story of one particular mother. This young woman had birthed and buried her first two babies. She was then enrolled in the Kwejuna Project and started on antiretroviral drugs. She was able to deliver her third baby, this time, a HIV negative one. The child is surviving. By giving this little one goat's milk, it now has a future and the mother has hope. To see this mother with a living, breathing baby on her back and a rope in her hand tied to a high yielding milk goat is one thing that gives us "staying power" in this hard place where survival is not the norm.

So, today, I say "Happy (6 month) Birthday" to my little Aidan and to all of the other little ones who are praying just to survive. And I applaud all of those in BundiNutrition who are daily fighting malnutrition to make another birthday possible for the children of Bundibugyo, Uganda.

Even in the grave

While talking with a new friend this past week, he thanked me for spending time with the people. He said that we, our little family, have done well on three fronts; we have come, we take time to talk with people when we greet and we have even reached a couple of funerals. He said the people have really appreciated this.

Funerals, I guess I expected them to be a part of our life here, as any doctor would, but I did not expect them to be such a constant and integral part of the culture here. Life surrounds funerals. At least once a week we will hear wailing and music through the night as family and friends mourn the lost of a loved one and seek to please the ancestors and recently deceased from haunting them or taking someone else. Once or twice a week, we have friends and random people knock on our door asking for a contribution for a family that has lost someone. In a real way, the death becomes a provision of money and a forgiveness of dept for those who remain. It is also a time of bonding and friendship. When someone dies, friends go and “sit” with the family for three to four days to show friendship and support. As Scott Myhre told me, if we want to love the living, we must spend time amongst the dead.

Sadly, we lost two long-time friends to the mission this past month. It is sad when any one dies. It is sad and painful when two responsible, grace-filled hopes of the community are taken away. Frustratingly, both deaths died because of a delay to surgery. The delay was caused by the lack of an x-ray machine, which delayed diagnosis of abdominal perforations, and the lack of hospital staff, which delayed time to the corrective surgery.

The first friend we lost this month was an elder of the church, one of the first friends of the mission and a helper to many. He was well loved and his testimony reached many families here. He often led worship and faithfully sat on the front left of the Church. Many former missionaries emailed us sad letters to be passed to the family.

The other friend was one of the youth, practically a family member of the missionaries. He was 33, had a wife and 2 children. When people spoke of him, they would say, “Oh, he was the responsible one.” He really is a Joseph story. Being sponsored by several of the missionaries to go to school, he studied hard and qualified to go to teaching school. When he got a job teaching, the family became jealous of his income (even though it was minuscule) and denied him his portion of the family land and crops. He faithfully trusted the Lord, saved money (a very counter-cultural practice here), and bought a small plot to farm and provide for his family. The uncles, seeing his resourcefulness and realizing all the other men in the family were addicted to alcohol, came to him, and requested that he come back and manage the family farm as well. He was a leader of the young generation of men here and a great role model for the children he taught at Bundamalinga Primary School.

Per the current missionaries here, the funeral for both of these men were unusually well attended. The time was filled with paradoxical praise for the promise of the gospel and wailing grief for the loss of greatly loved men. As dirt was shoveled on to the grave, the people sang, “Even in the grave, Jesus is the King.” This thought struck me as something I had not thought about. I often think of Him as Lord of the Living, a provider for our needs on earth, a giver of grace and an extender of mercy. I also think of Him as Lord of Heaven, as we live in the life eternal. But the grave- the grave is a necessary evil. It is something as a doctor I try to prevent everyday. But it is not seen this way here. It is a part of life. Even in death, life is provided for here on earth. As the last dirt is pushed into the ground, a tree is planted as a marker of the grave. New life will spring. For the family, this also gives a fresh start. Money is given, land is redistributed, and debts are forgiven.

This is not so unbiblical. Jesus stated that unless a grain falls to the earth and dies, no new life can come. In His death, Christ brought us life and forgiveness. Jesus came to redeem our lives. He has also redeems our death. It does not have to be the end of a meaningless existence or even a forever good-bye. The death itself can bring meaning and life with the hope of another reunion. Jesus blessed those who mourn and promised to comfort us. We can cry now because we will rejoice later. Otherwise, the grief would be too great and death to calloused. Even in the grave, He is the king.

Ants

When we first arrived here, I commented to Ashley about the plentitude of ants in our house. She replied, “Ahhh, the ants. In your first year, you will say ‘Ugh! Ants.’ In your second year, your will say, ‘Hmmm, ants.’ And In your third year, you will say, ‘Yum, ants!’”

Yes, I am often found scolding the ants for being everywhere in our house. “Ugh!” is a common sound heard. But the other day, I pulled out the milk from the fridge and there were some tiny little ants floating around. Not wanting to waste the precious commodity of milk, I simply heated it up, frothed it with our battery aerolatte, and poured it in my coffee. “Yum, ants!”

Last Friday night, we received a frantic call for the keys to the Myrhes’ house to retrieve the potent ant killer as there was a mpali invastion to Heidi’s room. These biting ants, also called safari ants by our friends in Kenya, form huge ranks to walk in a serious line to eat anything in their way. From what I have heard, the bite of the leader mpalis can draw blood. So, as I waited for Travis and Heidi to return with the ant killer, I penned this little poem.

Ode to the Ants

Ants, oh, ants

Why do you come around?

Moving earth and home

In Nyahuka town.

You tiny little sugar ant

You vex me in the way,

I find you absolutely everywhere

All the night and day.

The medium black ants,

Who much prefer the trees

You don’t seem to have the need to be inside

So stay up there, would you please?

The fierce and biting mpali,

Who marches in a line

Your pinchers are so sharp and big

I’ve got shivers on my spine.

The only way to be rid of you

Is with kerosene or a spray.

Ugandans have to move from their hut

Only to return the next day.

We know you are industrious

And we know you are strong.

But would you kindly take a break?

Would it be so wrong?

You are walking in the kitchen,

And strolling in my pantry

You are waltzing across the counter,

Like a determined little infantry

You are in my refrigerator

Where I thought you’d be too cold

And even in my underwear,

How could you be so bold?

I’ll take a lesson from the wisdom

of the man called Agur

if, like the ant, you work hard and plan ahead

you will not end up a beggar!

I did not claim that it was a good poem. What else is there to do in Bundibugyo on a Friday night but write bad poems about ants?

A day of action

Friday

Hit snooze on the alarm as the rain blessed us and canceled my walk/jog

Baked cinnamon rolls

Collected milk from Myrhes’ cow (but did not milk it)

Pasteurized milk

Made espresso with fresh frothed milk (favorite part of the morning!)

Read together as a family

Empathized with worker about his sick father and invited him here for Travis to see

Dressed kids, Leashed dog, Bjorned baby to Walk all to school

Nursed baby

Napped baby (and changed his “nappy”)

Greeted the family at our half-made kitubi who had a health concern

Washed dishes

Packed a picnic, Wished that I had salty potato chips

Gave “Doom” bug killer to worker to kill the mpali that were on our kitubi tree

Sent the ironing out to a man who truly heats up an iron iron

Spoke with the kitubi man who wanted to wait 2 hours for Travis to return rather than discuss building matters with me

Drank sweet tea and Pondered life with my prayer partner and fellow mom Loren

Made balance (change) for shillings for workers’ weekly wage

Killed cockroaches that have infested our “motorcar”

Packed Aidan and bags for hiking

Picked up kids and Travis

Bumped along the road to Bundibugyo Town for fruitless effort to buy electricity credits and to get cash from the one ATM in town

Felt the stress of the last 5 hours fall away as left town

Gave Patton a bowl in which to throw up as he was carsick

Had wonderful conversations with people at the National Park station, though it was the wrong one.

Arrived at Sempaya

Chased off family of 10+ baboons from our picnic spot kitubi

Enjoyed a pasta lunch

Nursed baby

Hugged Myrhes who dropped off Julia with us as they took sons to Kampala

Listened to Aidan’s newly discovered shriek which sounds like a cross between a howling monkey and our neighbors’ goat

Hiked to Female Hot Springs

Boiled egg in 106 degree mineral water

Hiked to Male Hot Springs

Watched sweet Julia hold the hands of adoring Lilli and Patton

Nursed baby

Prayed with a Ugandan man who asked us if we are a part of the tribe of the Lion of Judah and that he loves Jesus but also loves alcohol

Loaded into the car, Killed more cockroaches

Bumped home along the dirt road

Bought 24 kilograms of flour for upcoming pizza nights, Looking forward to visit by WHM Sudan Team

Nursed baby

Bathed kids

Pulled clean clothes in from the clothesline

Smelled garlic and butter for dinner’s bread

Ate leftover spaghetti by candlelight

Reflected on the day with kids

Read “Wilderking” book with kids

Sent money and prayers with Nathan as he takes the CSB boys’ soccer team to Ugandan National Championship

Settled in for a movie (The Hurt Locker)

Thanked God that we live in Uganda and not in Iraq

Prayed from missionaries in Iraq

Dreamed that WHM sent us to Iraq

Woke in the night to a wonderful thunderstorm

Slept peacefully