At the End of the Road

At the literal end of the road in Zirobwe village stands a forest of tents.  Over 20 tents served as our home base, although we spent as little time in them as possible.  A la "Tale of Two Cities"- it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, there were times of joy and times of heartbreak, times of natural beauty and times of disgusting squatty potty, times of chaos and times of peace, time that drug on and time that flew...

Ya ya.  Anyway, there's so much to cram into this blog!

 Quickly: yes villagers build their own huts out of grass and mud bricks (one will often catch men churning mud with their feet in a ditch to make these bricks).  Tribal paintings cover huts where witchcraft is practiced.  Many babies run around in beaded loincloths.  Older children often have only a shirt or clothes ripped so terribly that they don't provide much covering.  Chickens, goats, and pits roam the dirt paths which connect huts and farms in a tangled maze.  Everyone farms for a living: pineapple, passion fruit, coffee, maize, jackfruit, mangoes, and cabbage.   Traveling down a jungle path, one fetches water from a well with jerry cans and lugs it over 1/4 mile back to camp.  (pumping water is also a chore of itself!)  Children all the way down to toddlers mow grasses with machetes bent at one end (slashers).  Everywhere we went children clung to us and ran screaming after us.  Sometimes I felt every emotion all at once, too much to handle; other times I felt nothing at all- some things needed time to have an impact.  All in all God blessed me through Zirobwe.

Mostly we did programs with children and schools: singing, skits, games, crafts, food, and donations. The first night, a pastor had stopped us in a village close to Zirobwe and asked that we come to his church.  That evening we changed our program and sent a group to the new church.  I was the praise and worship leader.  We were warned that only a few children would show, and that those wouldn't speak English.  Imagine our surprise when we jumped off our van into a throng of over 150 children not including parents and grandparents.  This first night God touched me.  So many hearts thirsting for him.  With a baby in each arm and two girls clinging to my hands I couldn't take a picture for my readers.  Just try to imagine this crowd.  I was terrified as songs were first and no one knew them.  With the wonderful help of Jonah and Jayan (both Ugandans who translated) and of course God, hundreds of verses raised to Him for the first time in that place.


The moment that wrenched my heart the most almost never happened.  We loaded the vans and waited for the signal to leave. Children milled around playing with us.  Somehow God led my eye to one girl's foot.  On her ankle was a jigger (not chigger- jiggers are parasitic burrowers) wound.  Picture a gaping, golf ball sized crater caving into the skinniest child leg ever, yellow tissue and red scabs oozing with puss and swarming with flies.  The only thing not packed: the first aide kit.  However most of our supplies had already driven down the road to Kampala.  With nothing else to clean it with, I used germ-x.  Uncle Israel explained to the girl before hand that this would hurt.  She knelt on the bare dirt without making a sound, as I washed her muscle.  As I spread ointment into the hole she spoke softly.  Uncle leaned over and told me what she had said, "It's only a small scratch."

I cried.

Parents how many of your children have sat still for a single shot? shrugged their shoulders over a broken bone?  To this child a wide hole almost to her bone was a small scratch.  Please pray God's healing on these children who have so much to bear already.

My precious little girl stood up, curtsied to thank me, let me hug her for a long time, and then limped off smiling to join her friends.  May God give us her spirit of endurance and humility.

So many more little things caught my eyes and my soul: new constellations over a velvet sky, a giggling baby hanging on my skirt, a boy chasing and throwing rocks at a chicken with a sock in its mouth.  I thank God daily for allowing me to have this experience.  Thank you for all who helped me to get here- not only financially but also by being a part of my life.  From Uganda: Mukama Yebaziwe!  Praise the Lord!