Africa
Two years ago, a trip to Uganda with Compassion International changed my life. It didn’t happen immediately. I wrestled with what I saw, and what I knew the Bible said, and how I loved living my own comfortable life.
I’ll never forget that trip. We’ve quit jobs. Moved. And continue to re-evaluate how we can better serve people who may not have the access to practical things — and hope — as we do.
My friend (and the designer of this blog) Brad is on a trip right now with Compassion and I’ve asked him to share some of his thoughts with you.
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“When African Eyes Are Watching”
Those of you who have followed Anne for a while may remember her trip to Uganda with Compassion in February of 2008. She was part of the very first Compassion Bloggers trip. It was her posts from Africa that gave me my first inside look at how Compassion works. I gained a deeper appreciation for Compassion as an organization by seeing what they did through her eyes.
Never would I have imagined when I read the posts from that first blogging trip that I would be in Africa myself with Compassion just over two years later. And yet here I am.
I’ve only been in Kenya for four days now but already Africa has melted my heart. I’ll be leaving on Thursday but I’m leaving part of my heart here when I go.
The thing that has just rocked me to the core are the eyes of the children I see.
They’re absolutely riveting.
Like this little Maasai girl I saw when we visited a Compassion Project on Saturday…
Or this precious little girl I met at the Kabuku Compassion project on Friday…
or these adorable children who kept peeking back at me when we attended a Kenyan church on Sunday (seriously…how can you pay attention in church when you’ve got adorable faces like that staring at you?)
The reason I love looking into their faces is because I can see the power of child sponsorship in their eyes. Every face you see in those pictures represents a sponsor who has stepped forward to release that child from poverty.
For only $38/month (less than the cost of eating out once a month) you can ensure a child has access to education, medicine, nutritious meals and vocational training. You can read some of my first-hand accounts (and those of the other bloggers who are on this trip with me) of real people I’ve encountered who are being pulled out of the worst kinds of poverty through Compassion intervention and sponsoring relationships.
Anne has already done such an amazing job of telling Compassion’s story through this blog but perhaps there are some of you who haven’t yet taken the leap.
Can I encourage you to step up and make a difference in the life of a child? A small monthly investment from you means the difference between poverty and hope for these children.
Compassion is a one-to-one sponsorship organization which means you’ll be connected with your sponsored child through more than just a monthly check. You’ll be able to write letters to and receive letters from your sponsored child (here’s an example of a letter I recently received). You may even one day be able to meet your sponsored child like I did this week.
These beautiful African eyes have melted my heart this week…
…when they’re watching, I just can’t look away.
Click here to see Kenyan children waiting for sponsors right now.
Imagine what it’s like to walk down to the river that’s a few miles from your house.
With a 20 gallon bucket, you let the water slowly spill in, filling it to the top. Lifting the bucket over your shoulder, you carry it back home.
This is your water supply for the next day. You’ll use it to cook and clean and bathe and drink.
You know it may make you sick — it has before, and every time you have a sip is like rolling the dice.
But you also know you need water.
Your baby needs water. He’s getting dehydrated because he has diarrhea. You question yourself.
“Is it making it better…or worse?” as you look over at him. He lays quietly on a blanket inside your home. You can see the goose flesh run up and down his warm skin. He has a fever again.
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Yesterday, we raised over $5800 for clean water.
$1 provides 1 African clean water for a year. So, if you used that statistic, we’ve provided clean water for over 5800 Africans for a year.
Next year, on my 31st birthday, we’ll do the same, to ensure this necessity doesn’t go away.
5800 people with clean water.
Some, maybe for the first time.
Lifesaving, life giving, clean water.
Water without hesitation — without risk.
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Thank you guys for your sacrifice. It’s never too late to give.
Watch the video below for some big news about how I’m spending my summer vacation!
*Even though the crazy-eyed freeze frame implies it, I will not eat you.
Or, if you’re lazy and don’t watch videos…
3100 miles + 2 months in the Summer + Bike + Raising $$ for Water in Africa = Me on the Ride:Well 2010 Tour.
a year ago today, i was in uganda with 15 other bloggers. it was the first time poverty and i ever had a go at each other. i don’t think it liked me very much…coming in with my western attitude and designer jeans.
and honestly, i loathed it right back. i loathed it so much, i’ve woken up every morning since this trip determined to crush it.
a year ago today, i wrote this:
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today is one of those days i don?t want to end.
we started early, and headed to compassion’s ugandan central office. the professionalism, humility, and passion the staff shared literally glowed the moment we walked in. i was surprised to hear how many of them are reading our blogs?so to the compassion staff, thank you. thank you for teaching us so many things.
we spent most of the day at a project about an hour outside of the city?and let me tell you, i will never, EVER complain about oklahoman roads again. i have to admit, it was actually a pretty fun bus ride with everyone bouncing all over the place. things i didn’t even know i had jiggled!
at the project, we had the chance to see how compassion’s child survival program works, putting a special focus on meeting the needs of pregnant women, and their children from birth to three years old. we visited homes where we saw the program in place. workers from the project visit and help set goals for the family and the child, as well as provide for some basic needs.
after a delicious lunch, we broke off into groups to help observe and serve within the project. carlos and i taught a group of kids the motions and words for YMCA and Jesus Loves Me?we served the smallest children a special milk mixture that helps both nourish them and give them energy?
and then we played. out in the back of the project is a huge, grassy hill (complete with cattle at the bottom) and overlooking the amazing ugandan landscape. sophie and i played a game of ball (and let me tell you, some of these girls could out throw ANYONE)?we blew bubbles, picked up kids, loved on them, and made a very slow journey back to the bus?with children latching on to any available spot on our bodies, screaming
BYE, MUZUNGU!!! BYE, MUZUNGU!!! (which means “bye, white person!!!”)
i was tired. a little sunburnt. sweaty. smelly. really needing to use the bathroom. and really not wanting to leave.
about 20 feet from the bus, a nine or ten year old boy in a school uniform ran through the crowd, jumped in front of me, faced me, and gave me the biggest, tightest hug i think i?ve ever received. he simply muttered the words, “thank you, muzungu. thank you.” and then walked away.
i wonder when i truly became a christ follower
it all started with a woman named annette. she’s a single mom who lives in six-by-six room with her five kids (sometimes a sixth stays with them too).
i had seen poverty before, but from my 32″ TV inside my trendy little house. i read about it online, saw books and magazines dedicated to photodocumenting those who have the least.
but, i had never touched poverty until i took a seat on that bed in annette’s house.
i had never smelled poverty until we walked through the slums where she lived.
i had never tasted poverty until the combined smells of sewage, cooking, and poor hygiene combined and entered my mouth as i inhaled deeply.
before my trip to uganda, i cared about the poor, but i didn’t love them.
if i loved them, i would have done something, plain and simple.
and i hadn’t.
in crazy love, francis chan writes
lukewarm people do whatever is necessary to keep themselves from feeling guilty. they want to do the bare minimum to be “good enough” without it requiring much of them…they ask, “how much do i have to give?” instead of “how much can i give?”
it took about a month of struggling through my emotions (which i had shut down because denial is easier to handle than the pain of reality) and i finally realized if i am truly a follower of christ, truly a believer, i must change.
i must act.
there is no excuse for us not to love – and therefore act – on behalf of those without. without food, water, healthcare, or freedom. the bible does not give us an option. we are told over and over again what we need to do, but we get lost in our burden of wealth and we forget.
we compartmentalize “poverty” and “injustice” as causes and don’t integrate serving those trapped in them in our minute-by-minute living, as our continual act of worship.
In the 19th century, Robert Murray M’Cheyne wrote,
I fear there are many hearing me who may know well that they are not Christians because they do not love to give. To give largely and liberally, not grudgingly at all, requires a new heart; an old heart would rather part with its life-blood than its money.
today is blog action day and bloggers are posting about poverty. which me writing a blog and you reading it is all fine and dandy, but it’s blog ACTION day.
there are thousands of kids who need sponsors through compassion international. for what you would spend seeing a movie or buying a new shirt or going out to eat with a friend once a month, you can release a child from poverty. the math is easy. and if you think you’re too poor to do anything, and you’re reading this on your computer or your phone in america, you’re not too poor. and forgive me, but you need to stop thinking that you are.
if you already are showing the love of christ to someone less fortunate and you’re sacrificing then with all my heart i say thank you.
if you’re not, you can start today.
i hadn’t got online yet. my computer has been acting funny so i rebooted. as it started up with the reassuring whirl of a hard drive booting, i turned on my space heater, and returned to my desk.
opening up firefox [the browser of choice], my eyes skimmed down my news section as i typically do every morning.
my heart got stuck in my throat, and i couldn’t breathe when i read this headline:
SCHOOL FIRE KILLS UGANDA CHILDREN
I clicked, tears already welling up in my eyes.
An overnight fire in dormitory at a Ugandan junior school near the capital, Kampala, has killed at least 19 girls.
The BBC’s Joshua Mmali at the scene says distraught parents are wailing as rescuers work to retrieve bodies.
“Preliminary investigations indicate that it was homicide,” Police Inspector General Kale Kaihura said, reports AP news agency.
Our reporter says it has been established that the hostel’s doors were locked from the outside.
Two adults are also reported to have died in the fire, which police say started at 2200 local time (1900 GMT) on Monday.
It is not clear how many children were in the room, which had 63 beds.
A Red Cross worker told the BBC that it is difficult to identify the bodies as sometimes only pieces of bodies are being found.
all my mind can see right now are the all the girls sophie and i played ball with two afternoons. their smiling faces, their bright eyes, their laughter. their silliness as they would catch and tumble and drop the ball. the sing-song in their voices.
to clarify, the school in the story is not the school we visited. but i have no doubt the girls are just like the ones we were playing with. hugging. loving. laughing with.
linet, the girl chris and i sponsor from uganda is nine. i just cannot imagine it.
my heart is breaking today, probably in the deepest way since returning from africa. i keep crying. i am really glad i have an office to myself right now.
i am about to email our team that went to uganda with the story. so i also ask you pray for their hearts.
but most of all, please pray for the girls in the school, their parents, and the country of uganda. what a horrible tragedy to face.
if you would like to sponsor a child from uganda, please click here.
that was one of the questions david kuo asked at our dinner with leadership development students while we were in uganda. a man who is ugandan, a father, a pastor, and leader answered without hesitation,
“uganda.”
some of us seemed a little shocked. america. it’s the land of opportunity. it’s safe. you can get medical attention. at least three meals a day.
“exactly,” the man said. “you know where your next meal is coming from. you have jobs. paychecks. in uganda, you may not know where your next meal comes from. you have no money. you have nothing to depend upon but God. and i would rather have my children rely on God more than i would want them to be distracted by everything else.”
i have been contemplating the things upon which i have dependence. my job? absolutely. my paycheck? yes. my car. what’s in my fridge. other people.
when one of those things gets murky or muddy or falls apart, it’s easy for me to fall apart, too. i am distracted by them, sometimes (and probably more frequently than i’d care to admit) more often than not.
where does my help come from?
i am distracted from dependence on god.
in a culture of over-abundance and luxury, how can we remedy this?
(ps – if you want to look at some of the most beautiful children in uganda, click here.)
After three solid days of intense experiences in Africa, we took a small plane (which was an intense experience of itself) to a spot about 250 miles away from Kampala, the only city in Uganda. The lodge we were staying at was powered by a generator. The nearest medical facility was six hours away on unpaved and potentially unsafe roads.
We were in the middle of nowhere.
And it was time to rest.
One afternoon, we took a ferry across the Nile River and then hopped in a small bus. We drove half an hour on the bumpiest dirt road one could ever imagine to Murchison Falls, one of the many wonders of the world. We then hiked another half hour to the very top.
Slowly we progressed on a narrow, rocky trail, dodging tree branches and mosquitoes along the way. We occasionally stopped at the most beautiful parts of the rapids, taking each other’s pictures, but for the most part, the hike remained quietest part of the trip.
As we reached the top of the falls, we passed several signs warning us of the steep cliffs and the danger that awaited. Nobody was scared. Everyone was in awe. We helped each other over the slippery rocks and finally reached the very top.
Our guides told us many people have died at Murchison Falls. There are no rails to stop you from falling over. It’s you. The rocks. And the falls. The beauty of water is transformed into something breathtaking. People become mesmerized by the unique blend of tranquility and power. Some to the point they lose footing and fall over.
Standing as close to the edge as our leaders and guides would let us, we let the wind carry the spray and slowly drench us. Any fears of falling, of accidentally swallowing the parasite-infested water, of getting ravished by malaria-carrying mosquitoes…had all vanished.
The hardships of the trip – the pain we saw, the poverty, the brokenness…those things didn’t disappear or float away in the rapids of the Nile. But taking that day to rest…to go to a quiet place and be reminded of the incredible power of the Creator, if anything, more tightly knit His sovereignty and hope to the terrible things we did see.
Rest bound together the incomplete to the complete.
We cannot be dependent on ourselves and dependent on God at the same time. When we consider the practice of rest unnecessary, we also will inevitably lose sight of the necessity of God.
since our internet in uganda was maybe 14.4kb/s at its quickest was being consumed by fifteen passionate bloggers desperate to sponsor children, some of us are just now getting a chance to post some videos and other stories from the trip. including me.
first: watch this…
on the second day, we drove into a more remote area of the country to visit a project especially for educating and taking care of pregnant mothers and their children up to the age of three. each mother has a case worker who visits and checks in on the health, well-being, goals, and dreams of the caretakers and their children.
![villagesmall dreams for musa [a video of major substance]](http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/02/13/villagesmall.jpg "dreams for musa [a video of major substance]")
shannon, shaun, brian, and i took quite a journey on foot through this rural village until we reached the home we were to visit with the caseworker.
the home was immaculate.
way cleaner than my house has ever been.
carefully laid lace cloth graced every bit of furniture. another sheet of lace served as the front door.
the caseworker asked such detailed questions…taking notes in a very full, but organized folder.
she was asking about musa, the youngest child.
is he playing well with others? (yes…he loves to play ball.)
has he had fevers? (no…he’s been healthy)
have you made him any toys? she showed us several toys she made for musa. handwoven dolls and balls made from dried banana husks.
we asked what dreams she had for her children.
“i dream someday…my children will become doctors…”
when you trip over the toys in your house today, i pray you’ll think of the toys this mother made for her son. when you lock your door tonight as you get ready for bed, i pray you’ll think of the delicate lace sheet blowing in a small, ugandan doorway. these sights and sounds and thoughts have never left my mind…and i pray they’ll always remain with you, too.
we have so much. and these children need so little in comparison. just a little bit can truly make the biggest difference in the life…and the dreams…of a child.
over 350 children have been sponsored as a result of this trip. don’t let it end now.
it’s not too late. if you haven’t yet, please sponsor a child today.
it was really, really late on our last night in uganda. shuan, brian, keely, boomama and i needed to get to our rooms…but bats swarmed the outdoor hallways.
boomama, you see, is terrified of bats. and they didn’t like us a whole lot either. especially after shaun popped one in the face with his computer…
we made a mad dash for it…and we were dive-bombed…twice.
