First trip to the village in Uganda

I've made friends with a nurse (Bobby) in the operating theater at CURE.  We gym together and hang out on the weekends.  This past weekend, he invited me to visit his home village in Soroti.  A two hour minibus ride, then a 20 minute boda boda ride (motorbike taxi) and we arrived.  His family prepared a massive meal of goat and fish with sides.  Probably my favorite part of the village is the massive amount of kids.  I made friends with about 25 kids while the family had a meeting to discuss some things.  We also saw a python being killed by a couple guys that stumbled across it while digging.  Great day, it's been a while since I visited the bush.  The family gave me a live chicken as we were leaving which I fried and enjoyed the following day.  I caught the sunset on the way back to the main road as we were heading home.  It's one of those moments where I have to pinch myself.  Things seem surreal so many times here that I sometimes have to take a deep breath and remember....

First trip to Jinja

Jinja is about 100km (60 miles) south of Mbale.  Known for Nile rafting camps and a large expat population.  It is small in size but has lots to offer in terms of adventure.  We traveled by tour bus for a day of kayaking, boating and fishing.  I definitely want to go back.  I want to bungee into the Nile and also check out some of the mountain bike trails.  I will definitely raft the Nile at some point this year, everyone that has tried it raves about it.  

Bungee platform on the Nile

the sunset was breathtaking

local fishermen

island on Lake Victoria

my friend, Moiz, doctor from the UK

early morning on Lake Victoria

First days in Mbale, Uganda

Week two in Uganda and things are getting a bit more comfortable.  Routine is coming together, work is under control.  The first few days were especially tough.  And I’m still learning, still figuring things out.  But I know how to walk into town, I know names of staff at the hospital, I know that wi-fi is terrible.  It’s almost like Malawi on steroids.  Although Mbale is incredibly small, the center of town is very congested and everyone is competing for another foot of space. 

The hospital is an amazing place.  Lots of adorable big head babies.  Most of the cases that CURE Uganda treats are hydrocephalus and spina bifida.  Most patients that I've covered have been under 2 years.  But the moms are lovely.  But staying in the CURE family, I knew not to worry about the job.  All of the hospitals and staff are special places & people.

I’m living with a neurosurgeon in a guest house across the street from CURE. It takes 10 minutes to walk into town.  There are two decent grocery stores and lots of other small shops.  Selection is a bit better than Malawi on lots of items but not so much on other items.  It doesn’t make much of a difference for me.  I eat pasta, fruits, bread, sandwiches and lots of rice/beans.  I’ve heard there is a decent Indian restaurant in town but haven’t checked it out.  I also heard that a new coffee shop opened up in town last week.  I will check out restaurants once I figure out transport at night.  I don’t plan on walking at night and I get an extra hour of daylight here (7pm).  The weather is simply amazing.  70 degrees.  Rain in the afternoon.  I came right at the start of rainy season and despite a hot few days to start, it has cooled off at night. 

The expat population is really small here (25 people).  But I’ve met a few people and there is a small social circle.  I hope to meet some people that are here long-term.  The hospital director and his wife have been really loving and helping me out lots.  I am thankful for the first couple of weeks and glad that Uganda was on the table when I decided to leave Malawi. 

Random things...

My tattoos were the focus in the operating theater this week (scrubs are the only time they’re exposed since I only wear long-sleeves in the hospital), when asked if they are permanent, I replied “yes, forever.”  But I decided to tell the guys that some people do seek to remove them with laser treatment.  The next question was, “when do you plan on removing?” 

Two of my neighbors are 5 year old boys.  They stay in the same compound so they greet me at the gate everyday.  Then follow me inside the house and wreak havoc on everything until I throw them out. 

I’m running again and started Insanity.  It’s been 6+ weeks since my surgery.  There isn’t a nice, accessible gym here.  I am having dumbbells made by a welder in town at a garage.  

I still love coffee and I know without a doubt it’s the reason that I’ve survived so long here.  There is coffee being grown just 10 miles from the house that is unreal. 

Dust storms will ruin your day, quickly. 

I’m completely convinced crows never die. 

Rafting the Nile is definitely happening this year.  Sleeping with gorillas in the rainforest is on the list.  I have decided to travel and see more in Uganda than I did in Malawi. 

 

No one said this would be easy.

Once again, I'm scheduled to leave Malawi.  This time with no date for return.  This time, the goodbyes are final for lots of friends.  This time, there is no way of knowing if I'll be back.  I tell people that I will at some point, maybe this year, maybe again in 5 years.  I'm not sure, but I would like to visit again someday.  It feels like home.  I feel more attached to things here than I do at home, right now.  I feel more comfortable here than I do anywhere else right now.  I will fly out tomorrow for Uganda, unsure what the next year holds for me.

The last month has been incredible.  When I first woke up in a hospital bed, I immediately thought about how much longer it would be before traveling to Uganda.  I was prepared to go, mentally and emotionally.  But then it hit me.  I am incredibly lucky to be alive.  I am incredibly lucky to be able to spend another month in Malawi.  I am incredibly lucky to have downtime to focus and reflect.  So that's what I did.  I journaled, I read a couple books.  I prayed.  I remembered why I'm here in the first place.  When everything else falls apart, the gospel remains.  When you can't make sense of your life, the gospel still holds true.  When you feel abandoned, confused, worthless, stagnant, trapped, hopeless.  The gospel doesn't lose strength or power.  It isn't affected.  In fact, it's amplified.  It's light is brighter. 

[when our circumstances are the darkest, the light of our hope in God shines the brightest - "Gospel" JD Greear]

If there's one lesson that I'm constantly learning and being reminded - it's that every life is worth it.  Every life is a contribution.  In a country with tremendous distance between social classes, feelings of inferiority radiate from guardians, villagers and beggars.  We are not to disregard the lame or meek, yet we do.  I see it everyday.  I feel guilty.  I feel sadness.  I know that I want to love people, all people.  Everyone is worth it.  Not having money or a job or an education doesn't discount the worth of a person in God's eyes.  I want to see them through gospel lens.  I want to see them as a child of God, worthy of time, encouragement and sacrifice.  It's where I feel most vulnerable and uncomfortable.  When I don't know how to help or what to say.  But it's also there that I feel God.  I feel his presence.  When I get someone to smile that has been cursed at, overlooked and ignored all day.  When I treat people like people.  With respect.  And dignity.  We're all fallen, we all need grace.  We are in the same boat.  We could at least try to connect.   

Some lessons are easy.  Some take a lifetime.  I'm thankful.  For my extended time in Malawi.  For an opportunity to continue serving with CURE.  For the many friendships that will be formed in Uganda.  For the struggles, challenges, celebrations, adventures and rewards that lie ahead.  

Every life is worth it.   

Excerpt from Gospel by JD Greear

Awesome prayer from the pages of "Gospel"  

In Christ, there is nothing that I can do that would make YOU love me more and nothing that I have done that makes YOU love me less.

YOUR presence and approval are all I need for everlasting joy. 

As you have been to me, so I will be to others.

As I pray, I’ll measure your compassion by the CROSS              and your power by the RESURRECTION.   

at least it's not malaria (/sarcasm)

It's early monday morning...February 3 and I'm still in Malawi.  A week ago, I was scheduled to start work in Mbale, Uganda today.  However, I have no flight plans to leave Malawi.  Just one goal in the coming days - RECOVER.  As I down a couple pain pills and sit down to write this, I can't help but to smile.  If there's one major lesson that I've learned during my time in Malawi - life is unpredictable.  I've learned to relax.  I've felt peace here - in the most daunting situations.  An incredible lesson and one that will always be useful - in every season of this fragile life.

On wednesday morning, I felt pain in the abdomen but it wasn't alarming.  I had only been back in the country for 4 days and the iron stomach that took me 16 months to develop was still acclimated to U.S. cuisine (read pork BBQ and mom's brownie trifle).  So I carried on with my work day at CURE and attempted to ignore it.  I had no appetite and at 1pm, I needed to sit down and take a long breather.  The pain increased.  At 3pm, I fell across an exam table in an empty consultation room and tried to sleep.  The pain increased.  At 5pm, I was checked out by a CURE doctor and rushed over to a private hospital across town with a proper diagnosis - appendicitis.  The pain increased.  

After an exam in the emergency room and an ultrasound, I was scheduled for surgery that night.  I couldn't wait.  Every minute sucked.  I wasn't sedated until I reached the operating theater.  I had to wait on a gurney as an emergency C-Section moved ahead of me.  I fell asleep with total peace of mind and a massive pain in my side.

Fast forward a few days and I will spare you the recovery details.  I will never complain if admitted to a hospital in the states again - I can tell you that much for free.  I couldn't be more thankful for the events over the last few days.  The people that surrounded me.  The people that prayed for me.  All over the world.  The emails, FB messages, viber texts and calls.  The chocolate.  The home visits.  Everyone makes me feel so loved.  Too loved.  I don't deserve the amazing people that God has put all around me.  But I couldn't be more grateful.

The timing - my boss, Jenny was in town.  She made sure that I got checked out properly at CURE.  Being a dude, I like to downplay pain and pretend I'm stronger than I am.   She rode with me to the hospital.  She filled out all admission forms in the ER - I was doubled over in a fetal position with my eyes closed.  She called my parents and handed the phone to me before I was wheeled into the operating theater.  She paced the halls while I was in surgery.  She slept on a couple footstools that she pushed together beside my bed.  I was set to be on a plane bound for Uganda 48 hours after being admitted to the hospital.  The thought of the pain happening during transit and transition to Uganda is scary.  Thanks be to God.

The peace - there was no freakout, no panic.  Just concern to stop the pain.  I didn't worry about the possibilities.  I've been told that the surgeon that performed the appendectomy doesn't have the best success rate even though it's a relatively simple procedure.  I was told post-surgery but I'm not sure that it would have shook me if I had known beforehand.  It's crazy.  I was praying and my thoughts went to my parents & family for their comfort.  I didn't want them to worry.  I'm not saying this to sound bold or courageous - because it definitely wasn't me.  Worry and anxiety have consumed most of my existence.  That's why this experience and the last year are so encouraging to me.  If God used this to show me that he's changing me, I couldn't be more ok with it.  In fact, I love it.  It's part of my story.  Not like I can forget with a 6 inch scar - right?  

For anyone reading this that can relate to peace during a hurricane season in their life, I hope you're encouraged.  If I believe in a sovereign and all-powerful God of the Universe, I have to believe that my life is no exception to his control.  Reading through the short book of James right now and it's instantly applicable and completely appropriate.  

ESV translation
James 4:14 yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.

KJ translation
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

Saying Goodbye....again

Leaving.  The goodbyes.  The hugs.  The promises of keeping in touch.  The promises of staying safe.  The last smile.  The "I love you's."

It's difficult.  I won't lie.  I love working for CURE, I love Malawi and I'm excited for Uganda.  But to say that I'm ready to go right now would not be entirely true.  I have accepted the fact that I'm leaving tomorrow but it's going to be harder this year.  I know what a year away feels and looks like.  I know I will miss family the minute they are out of sight.  I know I will miss friends before I even land in Uganda.

I don't care about restaurants or food here.  I don't care about the clothes, shoes or cars.  I don't care about the convenience of stores & shops being open past 6pm.  I don't care about not having things abroad that are available 24/7 here at every single gas station.  I care about my community that surrounds me with love at home.  I miss people.

 It's a difficult lesson that I'm gradually learning to grasp.  Learning to trust.  Letting go of the worry and anxiety.  Not worrying about what's next.  Learning to live in the moment.  Learning to love.  Learning to be content and not constantly looking forward.  Learning to be completely honest and bold in prayer.  We can't hide the deceit and darkness in our hearts.  Why do I even try?

The stories will be different in Uganda.  The people will be different.  The hospital will be different.  The doctors will be different.  The housing will be different.  The food and language will be different.  The traditions will be different.  The medical conditions will be different.  My co-worker and translator will be different.  Challenges will be different.  Struggles will be different.  There is only one constant in my life.  My faith.  Our savior.  Our Father.  Our provider.  Our Lord.