Saturday, July 1
Currently: Internet Cafe, Kampala: 4pm
I'll update more in a few days when I get back to Canada...computer and internet access has been limited over the past while, and I had a last minute change of plans that sent me five hours west of Kampala for a few days. I'll fill you all in in a couple days...back to Canada July 3rd.
Day 6
Currently: Hotel Room, Kitgum: 11pm
Too much seen today. Too much to know how to process. It was a busy day as we visited two IDP Camps as well as the night commuters of Kitgum. A quick history as I understand it will help explain:
There has been a war going on in Northern Uganda for the past 20 years between the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and the Ugandan Military. Eighty percent of the LRA consists of children who have been captured and forced to join. The children are trained by force and threat to kill, maim, rape and terrorize their friends, family, and neighbours. They are the Acholi people. The LRA consists of Acholi, and the majority of the Northern Ugandans are Acholi. In 2002, the Ugandan Military was given permission from Sudan to enter its country to seek out and defeat the LRA who had been hiding just inside Sudan’s border with their leader, Joseph Kony. When the attempt failed, the LRA increased in brutality, killing more in that period than in it’s entire existence. Kids were forced to kill their own people. As a result of the increased violence, many Acholi families fled to the bigger cities for protection, where they camped. The government of Uganda stepped in and established Internally Displaced Peoples (IDP) Camps for the protection of those fleeing the violence, and eventually forced all the villagers into the IDPs, where they remain. Out of fear, many children now walk to Kitgum and other major cities at night for the protection from the LRA that a busy city brings. They are called night commuters. There is much more to the conflict in Northern Uganda, but this is enough to understand.
The first IDP we visited held 16,000 people. Humans. Mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, daughters, sons – from babies to as old as they can survive in these conditions. Huts barely 6 feet in diameter spread across the camp, 2 feet apart from eachother, 1 house per family. Kids holding kids. Shoeless, bloated stomachs, runny noses. It seemed unreal to me. I was walking through a sponsor-a-child commercial. That is exactly how it felt…except here I saw smiles. Kids always smile. It’s the teenage mothers, holding their young child, telling their stories of abduction, torture, forced marriages, rape, forced marches and escape who don’t smile. Words cannot describe, pictures cannot speak a thousand words.
The next camp in Pidibe held 41,000. A majority of the huts lacked their thatched roof due to a massive fire in February. Here we hear more stories and see more suffering, all the while passing through row upon row of houses covered in plastic tarps labeled ‘Unicef’.
The houses here are not homes.
Driving from camp to camp, complete with a military escort, we caught glimpses of life as it had once been. Crops, streets, fringed with people walking, carrying their means of finances on their heads. And homes. The homes of those in the camp dotted the plains, overgrown, empty, abandoned. The huts had not thatch, the brick houses slowly crumbled to piles. Some homes had been obviously burned, possibly the result of an LRA attack. Just one of many attacks that led to the IDP camps and the displacement of hundreds of thousands.
And yet, there is hope for the camps. While we were in Pidibe, several leaders within its churches were being trained at the FHI base so that they can return with the ability to recognize the signs of depression and psychological challenges faced by the girls who have given birth to the child of a rebel while in captivity. These girls will in turn get the counseling and life skills training they need. It’s hope. It’s a start. It’s something.
We returned to the Food for the Hungry (FHI) base to join the trainees in an African tradition of sorts. With a campfire blazing, we joined in music, dance, jumping, clapping, drumming and sweating before enjoying the cooked meat of a couple of goats we saw walking around the day before. Then, as the stars came out above us and lightning lit up the clouds far in the south, we enjoyed stories told, songs sung, skits performed and some traditional singing by the trainees of Pidibe, the Acholi people.
We then left to observe another Acholi tradition of a completely different sort – the night commuters. Kitgum plays nightly host to over 9,000 children. Children. Children who walk miles for the relative safety of a shelter, only to return home in the morning to carry out daily life. They are the night commuters. I asked Justin, a 17 year old boy who has spent the last 5 years walking every night back and forth, “What would make you happy?” His simple answer is all the Acholi people want.
“For there to be peace.”
These are some of the experiences…the feelings stay here.
Day 7
Currently: at the computer, day 9
Friday was our last day in Kitgum. We spent the morning with the trainees at FHI before being given an hour to process. To reflect. To answer the question: what is it that God would have me take from Kitgum. An hour later, it came down to a deeper question for me: Why do I need God? I returned to Kampala with that question in my mind, and there it still sits. I do know how to find the answer, though. That’s where the hard part comes in.
Day 8
Currently: in the sun, Hotel in Kampala: 5pm
It’s a lazy day here in Kampala…a day of rest. It’s kind of nice to have a day of nothingness. Doug, Macklin and Peter have gone white water rafting on the Nile while the rest of us stayed back at the hotel. So, three Setter’s games and one chess game later, here I sit with the sun beating down on my back. As much as this would have been my only chance to raft the rapids of the Nile River, I figure such an experience can be had anywhere. It’s not the rafting I think I am missing out on as much as seeing the Nile. Mind you, I’m not too keen on swallowing it after being thrown overboard in a whirlpool. I like lazy days.
Sometimes it feels like we’ve been here for months, sometimes for days. So much has happened since we’ve come to Uganda. So much seen, heard, felt, experienced. I wish we had more time in Kitgum. It feels like we only saw the tip of the iceberg. I feel like I’m just beginning to understand the magnitude of what is happening in Northern Uganda. As we flew back down to Kampala yesterday I couldn’t help but wonder if the houses we were flying over were abandoned…they’re owners huddled in a hut in an IDP camp, longing to return home. I would have liked to spend more time with the people there, to hear more stories, to ask more questions to…understand. Understand…I had to search for that word, but I still don’t think it’s what I mean. It’s more than that. I want more than to hear their stories. I want to care for them. It’s important to hear the stories, but I think that’s where I get the impression that it’s just the tip of the iceberg. It was too fast. Twelve people listening to the horror stories of a young girl does not seem like enough, and I think our whole team would agree.
Day 4
Currently: in my room @ the guest house: 5pm
More touring today. We visited a number of churches today to get a glimpse of how the DNA conferences have impacted the mission of these churches in Kampala. This will be the same conference we go to next week. Amazing to hear how the churches have begun to impact their community simply by recognizing the mission God has placed on the churches. To them, it’s become more than just preaching, but living, caring, loving. I look forward to the conferences to get a glimpse of how Canada’s churches can be impacted in the same way. Touring has gotten easier to do, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because we’re in a van with tinted windows. Maybe it’s because it’s simply gotten easier. I’ve learned to wave and smile as we drive by and to enjoy being waved and smiled at in return. That uneasiness returns when it comes to photographing…I find that I need to take pictures discreetly as often as I can. If you’re in the right place, the instant you pull your camera out you will quickly find yourself surrounded by kids all eager to have their picture taken. And I feel a tinge of guilt as the shutter snaps. It’s a bit of an irony. I know part of the reason I am here is to see life as it is in another country…in the third world. In Uganda. But I don’t want to be seen by the people here as just that. I’ve seen enough pictures of smiling black African children. I don’t need to be taking them. So when us ‘whites’ pull into a parking lot and are quickly discovered by children, I feel a tinge of disgust when the cameras come out and kids are told to give a thumbs up so someone can get a perfect picture.
I want to know these children.
So as the pictures were being taken, I walked down the fence separating the parking lot from the street and sidewalk. It didn’t take long to be spotted by a young boy on the other side, and he walked over to me. Soon, he was joined by others. I love that Ugandans speak English. As an old, withered, crippled woman sat begging beside the street, I talked to these children. I find I have become indifferent to the reports I have heard abut the plight of children in Africa. I have heard over and over that they are orphans, and I found myself this morning wondering if what I hear is as true as they say, or if they are stories told simply to pull at heartstrings. I found myself this morning wanting to know the truth…to hear it for myself, not to hear it from a voiceover on an AIDS video or a sponsor-a-child commercial. And so it came to be today that I met David, and four of his friends on the street in Kampala. As perfect pictures were being taken further down the fence, I found out that David, who is 13 and his friends, who are 9-13 hold their hands out for food. I found out that they do not know their father. The nine year old girl is a true orphan…both parents dead. When I asked where they slept at night, they all pointed to a building across the street. But when the word they said didn’t connect with where I saw them pointing, I shifted my eyes from across the street to the middle of it. While two infants sat bare-bottom on the dusty street of Kampala, five feet away from who I imagine to be their sister waving her hand to passing cars, occasionally reaching out for a donation, I asked the kids, “Where do you sleep?” Turning around, with their fingers in the air they replied, “Roundabout”. And there, surrounded by swarms of cars and vans was their bed – a dirt and grass roundabout in the middle of the city.
“Do people in Canada live here?” asked the nine year old girl, pointing to the street.
“Yes, but they are usually much older – not many kids do.”
“If they do, they are picked up and taken away to live somewhere else?”
“Usually,” was my answer. Pause “What do you think of that?” I asked.
“I think people from there should come here and pick us up.”
It was a moment in which I couldn’t say anything…and I felt like I couldn’t do anything. And even now, I’m not sure what emotions I’m feeling. So, I removed my hand from David’s constant grasp…and waved goodbye.
Grabbing my camera from the van, I managed a picture of the infant on the street before being surrounded by smiling kids, thumbs in the air. Faking a shot, I returned to the van where the others joined, and we drove away. Whether in Canada or Kampala…life must go on. There is much more to see.
Day 5
Currently: at the computer: 7:30am
Been awake since 4:30. Obviously not the only one, as the moment I walked downstairs an hour later there was a Settler’s board set up and three of the team waiting for a fourth player. Perfect. Hm. Now, after yesterday…it’s weird to think that we sat at the table with our coffee, far removed from yesterday’s experience. Today is the day we head to Northern Uganda, to Kitgum. We will be visiting Internally-Displaced-Peoples Camps as well as missions set up for children who have escaped the Lord’s Resistance Army. Easy enough to type…not sure what it’ll really be like until we’re there. It’s gonna be a long, hard three days.
Day 1
Currently: Flying over the Hudson Bay: 9:45 pm (BC Time)
Not quite sure what to think at this point. I’ve met five of our team: Dave, Macklin (an English chap), Jason (?), Jeff, and Doug (old roommate). Had some interesting conversations so far. It seems I am in the presence of greatness. Macklin has the highest respect for Dave, a ‘humble man, who truly deserves an award from Canada for the work he does’. I have been told straight out that this trip will change me…this in the midst of discussions on business, finances, and other matters beyond my depth of comprehension. The sun is just barely skirting the horizon in the deepest shade of red I have ever seen the sun in. As we soar atop the world, I suspect the sun may not even set before night falls in London. After a bit of thought and reflection on, among other things, a phone conversation with my brother…I’ve decided to focus on praying for three things during this trip: 1) Eyes to see what God wants me to see; 2) Ears to hear what God wants me to hear; 3) Wisdom to do what God wants me to do.
Day 2 or 3 (not sure)
Currently: About to land in Entebbe, Uganda: 7:00pm (BC Time), 5:00am Uganda Time.
It’s technically been 24 hours since this trip started, but I’ve lost 10 hours of my life with the time change. I’ll catch them on the way back to Canada. Our layover in London proved expensive. Doug and I took off to see the city, since neither of us had ever been. $150 Canadian later, we managed a train ride, a local beer from a local pub, complete with the best plate of nachos ever had by man, and a whirlwind walking tour of a small section of London – which included a stop at a park where the locals sunbathed in the thick grass like it was a beach. Between their expensive way of life and their peculiar habits, I may never understand the Brits.
Day 3
I’ve discovered it’s Monday, so that officially makes this Day 3.
Currently: in my room at a guest house in Kampala: 10:30am (Uganada Time)
I’m pretty sure the local rooster’s internal clock is as screwed up as mine, since it started it’s morning crowing at 10am. Our group is now up to 10, with the London addition of Peter, Paul, Marg and Robyn. And Jason’s name is now Simon. We drove for an hour and a half from the airport in Entebbe to the capital, Kampala. I felt like a rich, white tourist. The scenery is beautiful – the poverty obvious. Somehow I didn’t expect to see the shacks, the garbage, the dirty streams of water flowing between houses quite yet. Not so close to a capital city, at least. Mexico x100. By the time we were on the road, about 6:30am, there were tons of people out – standing, walking, scootering, biking, sweeping, selling. Many of the kids in school uniforms…a number of young men in military uniforms, some with a gun strapped to their back. And they all stared as we drove by, looking out the large windows of our bus – 10 white folk and 4 black. I felt like they looked at us as though we were on a tour of a zoo, safely protected from the animals in our ‘tour bus’. I hope that’s not what we are to them…but it was the sense I got as we drove by. Then again, maybe that’s what I am. We go on a tour this afternoon…I’d rather not go if that is how I am seen. I’d rather get to know the people, not drive past them. It’s nearing the end of the rainy season. Today’s rain just started.
Home. Is it? I'm not sure. Right now I'm sitting at a desk behind which I once sat at every Monday through Saturday for four years @ Pics Plus. It's the long weekend so I figured it would be safe to work one day and not have to worry about how to use these new machines. Work accomplished so far: 5 pages faxed; 64 pages photocopies; 1 price quote; 2 print jobs, 1 laminate. Phew. So far so good. All that with 8 customers. I don't much mind customer service. A chipper 'Good morning' seems to go a long way with some people. There's always the oddballs (the 'Katz's', the 'Red Baron's' and the 'Crazy Purse Lady's'), but they seem to be so few and far between that their purpose in being customers seems to be more that they can be talked about for years on end than for the pain in the butts that they are in the moment. It's funny. While stores come and go along this stretch of Grimsby's Main Street, it still seems that things stay the same here. Same faces, same stories, same music, same news. Maybe I've become somewhat accustomed to constant change. I go home to a new house, a change in job schedule, a change in life schedule...kinda been the way my life's been the past few years since my first jaunt to BC. Come September though, I'll jump into a regular rythmn. 40 hour work weeks, steady apartment, no school. A routine. Routine is what caused me to think about heading west in the first place and it seems that after 3 years I may have found a routine out there. Yeesh.
It'll be a challening routine though. The routine of youth work is to try not to get stuck in a routine with youth. Or they get bored. It's always gotta be exciting it seems...little do they realize that life isn't always exciting. Sometimes I think we're playing a trick on them. But how fun would it be to just do the mundane, ordinary life thing? Exactly. So we make them think that life should be one excitement after the next and hope that they come to grips with the ordinary later on in life. Man.
And then some routines never leave you. I turn the lamintor on in the same way...shut it down in the same way. I key in sales the way I've done for four years and collect change in the same order. And people still call for their ink cartridges. Routine is a part of life I guess.
currently listening to: matt good. white light rock and roll review. good stuff. on to matters of the day. it was sunny. super sunny and warm and sunny and blue skies and mountainous distances and sunny. BC extraordinaire! the day was spent in the church running a team meeting for our summer mission trip to california and then doing all the last-minute-planning for a church service that ended two hours ago. sundays are no longer a day of rest. i'm tired, my feet are sore and i always leave services in which i am involved in planning wondering if things could have been different. or if things should have been different. or if i need to just sit back and understand that God enjoyed it. services can be stress city. i was gonna write about a holey jean incident that happened last week, but in the end decided it wasn't worth it. the title's staying though. i like it. two more days of work before i hit the beaches of california. i intend to spend my time soaking in much of the sun i missed out on today. good times had by all...
as of 1:30pm on this very day, i have been set free. with many strokes of a pen i wrote what will likely be the final two exams of my post-secondary education existence (CBC-wise, as least). not only is that chapter of my life done, but the book has been closed. ahhhhh...
so what next? actually it'll be a busy summer:
1) next week: Los Angeles for a youth-worker conference (a.k.a. beach)
2) May 1: begin full-time youth work
3) mid-May: Ontario for a few days (want a day off, Paul?)
4) June: Uganda for three weeks
5) July: Back to California for a 10 day mission trip (+ road trip!)
and in the midst of it all--full-time youth work [nervous laughter]. nervous laughter because it's a daunting concept. full time youth ministry. is this what i signed up for? well...technically i haven't signed the papers yet, but things have been progressing towards that signature on the dotted line. yeesh. i was asked the other day what my ideal job would be. funny that youth work didn't top the list. train engineer did. or train conductor...as long as i'm on a train going somewhere. it's always been on top. weird. does this mean i'm barking up the wrong tree? it might mean that if so many people didn't want me to stay at the church. ah well. i guess time will tell...for now i'll enjoy this newfound freedom. a woo and a hoo!!
sometimes when i hug people...i step on their toes. think about that one...not only is it true physically [i inevitably do step on someone's toes when i hug them] but it's true in more than the physical. sometimes to show someone you love them, you have to step on their toes. we need to be challenged. we need the wake-up call. we need to know that our toes aren't the only toes in this world of toes. the problem comes when we are so afraid of stepping on eachother's toes that we keep an arms-length away from eachother. this method works in our individualistic society that is north america, but it can't work in a church that wants to be community-focused. we need to hug eachother...and when we do that, there's gonna be some toe-steppin'. the question is this: what will we remember more? the pain? or the hug? pain subsides, but everyone always wants more hugs.
That's my life motto. i won't mention what the key opens, it sounds positive with that part left out. so, speaking of procrastination i have discovered some great methods:
1. blogging
2. cleaning
3. reading (yes, ma...reading)
4. Lost (what's in the hatch?!)
5. church work (when schooling needs doing)
6. school work (when church stuff needs doing)
7. driving four hours to vernon to do nothing
8. creating to-do lists
9. sitting and thinking. possibly my favourite past-time.
i have a 1500 word essay due next Thursday. I've got 300 words written in 5 hours....it's really not that big of an assignment, but i'm loving the class so i actually care about getting a good grade. plus i've got to read three chapters of my psych text for a test monday. after monday i won't have time to do any homework. it's saturday afternoon, and i now have a 1200 word paper to write. and the library closes in 15 minutes. my weekend will be a write-off. reading break has come and gone...you'd think it's called 'reading break' for a reason. not me. yeesh.
It was a mere 12 months ago that she was born. Or should I say 'adopted'. Brought into the family. And was she ever a beaute! Beautiful, bright, sparkling eyes; silky smooth exterior; clean emissions; healthy sheen. That's my Swift! Instead of the once-a-year birthday-only gift giving, I opted for a much more extended and expensive show of appreciation. Here's how she all added up:
Purchased at 178,000km @ $1200.00
1) Engine Tune Up: $100.00
2) New Tires: $230.00
3) Five Oil Changes: $120.00
4) New Exhaust System: $300.00
5) New Windshield Wipers: $30.00
6) New Pair of Brakes: $80.00
7) New Headlights: $30.00
8) Re-attach passenger mirror: $1.50 (screws)
9) Re-attach driver's mirror: $1.50 (screws)
10) Pliers to remove old mirror screws: $2.00
11) Screwdriver to attach replacement mirrors: $15.00
12) Gas to keep 'er runnin': $1200.00
13) Insurance to keep 'er legal: $1200.00?
14) Tickets to stop me speedin': $530.00
Current Odometer: 216,000
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Total Mileage: 38,000 km
Total for all this TLC: $5040.00
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Cost / Kilometre: $7.55
Owning a car: priceless.
Happy Birthday Swift!
It happened one afternoon in late summer, 2005. My little Swift was perfectly parked parallel on the pavement on a little side street in Abbotsford. There were kids about. Kids with balls. Large, rubbery balls. In a moment of misjudgment, one of these large rubbery balls beelined towards my little Swift's passenger side mirror. Poor thing didn't see it coming, it was too busy looking backwards.
February, 2006. My little Swift was perfectly parked on the pavement behind the parish. There were kids about. Kids with, well, balls...different kinds of balls. In a moment of misjudgment and perceived courageousness, one of these kids decides it would be fun to even up the look of my car. Like it's twin, Mirror #2 was too busy looking backwards. It never saw him coming. Oh, Swift.
a few years ago i heard a speaker talk about the central message of the Old Testament prophecies, as he saw them. not necessarily the specific prophecies that we now understand to be a forth-telling of the coming of Christ, but those that addressed the sins of the Israelites and addressed God's reasonings for allowing them to be sent into exile. it wasn't just the sins of commission...those that the Israelites actively committed (ie. worshipping foreign idols, sexual sin, etc.) but also the sins of omission...those things that the Israelites should have been doing, but weren't. in fact, the speaker suggested that those sins of commission were a result of the Israelites sins of omission (something to think about). what, specifically, were these 'sins of omission'? Not caring for the widow and not caring for the orphan....a lack of justice. ever since i heard him speak, this idea of justice has been swimming around in the back of my mind. as i read the OT prophecies and the words of Christ i would pick up on the theme of justice and understand it even more and remember the words of a speaker i heard a few years back. and it bothered me, but it made sense.
the speaker's name is jim cantelon...i heard him again tonight. he spoke on the same topic. and it still makes sense. this idea of justice in our world and the churches role in the acting out of this idea (or lack of acting it out, as it seems) continues to ring in my ears as it did when i first heard him...and it continues to bother me. it bothers me because i understand his message to be true. it bothers me because i don't know what to do about it. i understand that there is a lack of justice as i walk through the streets of east vancouver. i understand that there is a lack of justice as i talk to a man on the street who has his bed in a garbage bag and who wanders around my car as i come back from hearing a man on a stage talk about justice.
'do you have any smokes?' he asks.
'no, sorry man, i don't smoke,' i reply.
getting in my car, i turn the key and drive away.
i understand. but i still don't know what to do.
that will be the title for my upcoming bestseller. I Get Claustrophobic in Christian Bookstores. the only problem is that there's only one type of store that will sell it. yup...that's the one. yeesh.
I have trust issues with God (have I said that before?). As much as I know He has my best intentions in mind, it's hard to accept that, especially when my own intentions seem so perfect...or good. Ha. Therein lies the problem, Watson. Okay, I know Sherlock never said that but that whole 'therein' threw me off so I had to make up for it with something. My intentions are just that...my intentions. Which means that it is me who is putting the effort forth because I have led myself to believe that it will be my work that will accomplish my goals. And in that moment...whether that moment is 1 second, 1 day, 1 year...or 1 year and 4 months...I have lost my focus. No, I haven't lost my focus. I have adjusted it. Not from clear to blurry, but from blurry to clear. 'Wouldn't that be good,' you ask, 'to start seeing clearer?' Not the way I see it. ha. 'See it'. Get it? You see (get it?), I have adjusted my vision (goals, intentions, plans) in such a way that my vision (goals, intentions, plans) were clear. But I may just have been headed in the wrong direction with my 20/20 vision. It's better to have blurry vision and face the right direction, I think. Forgive me as this get confusing. At least with blurry vision, you're headed in the right direction. And you are forced to seek help. I don't think God intends on give us a prescription for that 20/20 vision. Then we would just put on a new set of glasses and start walking whatever way suits us best. This whole analogy works great in my head, but it's a little convoluted in black & white text. My point...I think...is this. Head in the right direction. Walk with Someone who knows the best way. Adjust your focus to keep the faith alive. Trust.
This is somewhat of a needed understanding of God's ways for me. Usually when a 'needed' realization of God's ways strikes me, it sucks. And it is once again true. I thought I was headed in the right direction all along. Maybe I'll be put back on that path in the future, hopefully a little more blindly next time.
Thanks Coldplay.
The Hardest Part
And the hardest part
Was letting go not taking part
It's the hardest part
And the strangest thing
Was waiting for that bell to ring
It was the strangest start
I could feel it go down
Bittersweet I could taste in my mouth
Silver lining the clouds
Oh, and I,
I wish that I could work it out
And the hardest part
Was letting go not taking part
You really broke my heart
And I tried to sing
But I couldn't think of anything
And that was the hardest part
I could feel it go down
You left the sweetest taste in my mouth
Silver lining the cloud
Oh, and I,
Oh, and I,
I wonder what it's all about
I wonder what it's all about
Everything I know is wrong
Everything I do it just comes undone
And everything is torn apart
Oh and that's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
Yeah, that's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
Fix You
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.
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