The Uganda team has returned and are preparing their final report, but in the meantime, here is a sample from Molly Nixon’s journal about our trip onto the Islands of Lake Victoria. Enjoy (and check out the great pictures of our trip on the Media page):
Wazuzo-tyano! (How are you in Luganda). I have survived the islands. Finding the words to paint you a picture of my experience is nearly impossible, but I’ll make an attempt. Picture a big murky lake, lots of green tropical plants along the shore. Add some big puffy clouds. Then sprinkle in some mosquitoes, roaches, a variety of ants, and swarms of lake flies. This will be the back drop of what’s to come. From Kampala we took an hour ride in two vehicles (filled with all our supplies and personal belongings) on a pothole-filled dirt road to our launching destination.
We loaded into a small 15 foot wooden vesicle with a 5 horse power motor and set sail. With our heavy load every time we caught a wave water splashed in to the boat, soaking our stuff and filling our mouths. I took note that all the boats along the shore were the same in appearance as our small craft. I concluded that if the natives traveled in this style it must be safe. Off we went. Visions of hippos and monkeys in my head. We were told our jaunt to Bussi would take 45 minutes. One stop at Kachanga (another island), 2 hours, and one very full bladder later we arrived to our destination (in the dark).
Still a few yards off shore we were greeted with a chorus of 160 children’s voices, they were singing in welcome. I was so delighted I forgot the discomfort of being wet and cold. Once my feet hit the soil my heart melted. A sea of black smiling faces swarmed us. Little hands reaching out for hand shakes and up for hugs; a melody of tiny voices saying “You are welcome†over and over with a sweet hint of a Luganda accent. They made quick work of all our stuff, fighting over who got to carry what. We brought 2 new African drums for their chapel times. Once those appeared over the side of the boat there was an uproar of cheering, clapping, and jumping. The next few minutes were a blur in my memory. I eventually found a toilet (porcelain and flushing, the nicest commodity on the whole island). This happy blur came to a screeching halt when all the gaiety faded and I found myself alone in my hut with all my stuff.
On the outside the hut resembled a yurt, yet with brick and stucco. It had a blue tin roof that looked like an upside down ice cream cone. The inside resembled a jail cell from Fort Stevens. Cement floor, chipped stained walls, a piece of foam rapped in a sheet on a bed stand, and a mosquito net. “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance… †Romans 5:3-5. Little did I know that mosquito net would become my place of refuge, and safety from the bugs and the overwhelming attention of 160 kids. Bats lived in the rafters, I’m sure aiming for my bed every time they pooped; spider webs filled every other place. After I survived the first night I decided my bags were not safe outside the mosquito net so I commenced to squeeze them on my bed and sleep with them the remainder of our stay.
On our second day the flushing toilet broke. Squatty potties from here on out. These authentic island commodities were at least 100 yards from our huts. Every time the urge came to take a hike (to anywhere not just the toilets) we had an entourage of little people, 2 to a hand running to walk with us.
For bathing we had a 10 gallon basin. The kids hauled lake water they heated over fires for us to bathe each morning. I cut a water bottle in half and used it to rinse with; such were our bathing experiences. The food was very authentic I’m told and consisted of various groupings of rice, beans, fish, potatoes, and pineapple (we hauled in our own bottled water).
So much to talk about and I’ve barely scratched the surface. The oldest child at Ossanide Orphanage is 15 the youngest 4. Most had no shoes, and wore tattered second hand garments, some held together with just a thread. All had their hair cropped short (traditional for grade school kids I’m told). Some had flaking scalps from the head fungus that is being passed around, 2 with herniated umbilicus, several with open wounds on various body parts, one with a clubbed foot, and one with a broken thumb that has healed wrong. All had smiles and sparkling eyes.
These kids start their days @ 5:30 am in the chapel for prayer and song lead by the older children, and end their day with another chapel at 6:30pm also lead by the older kids. They each have their own chores: sweeping the paths with brush brooms, cooking rice or beans, hauling fire wood, doing laundry, or mopping floor. They’re amazing. Mzungu or Masoongoo (spelled phonetically) means white person, so we heard that a lot.
While Tim taught the 30 pastors from the surrounding islands, I mostly worked with the kids. My germ teaching was a hit, they loved the finger puppets. We passed out personal wash basins and wash rags at the end (thank you everyone who donated $). The kids were ecstatic. Some of the houses had had only one basin for 10 kids, dishes, and laundry. The next day the crayons were passed out, another hit (thank you HSC!), and proper tooth brushing was taught. They loved the personalized pictures (thank you LHF kids, Milbrandts, Cox’s, and Cheston’s!). (Sorry this has become so abbreviated, time is short). The mamas’ loved the scarves, and send their love to everyone who donated them. The nurse was very grateful for all the medical supplies, and begged me to come work with her after I graduate (thank you Sandi!).
The rest of our time was spent visiting pastors and preaching on other island. It’s traditional to give gifts to visiting pastors, I counted we must have received 20 pineapples, and 2 roosters
One local pastor took us to see his pineapple plantation and picked one for each of us. He wanted us to eat the whole thing right there among the bugs and shrubbery. So I did. I was the only one that got it all down. I discovered too late that here if you finish all your food it’s assumed you’re still hungry and more will be offered to you. Another was cut, I could only take a few bites. We took boda bodas or boat-a-boat-a’s (also spelled phonetically) – motorcycles, back to the orphanage in the dark of night through the jungle.
Our boat ride back to the main land after our time on Bussi Island was finished was eventful. The wind made great waves that often rose higher than our wooden vessel. We were already loaded down with villagers catching a ride with all their produce, as well as all our gear so the waves were no fun. The natives yelled back and forth to each other all at the same time most of our boat ride. That is never comforting. I clutched the side of the boat; running emergency evacuation plans over in my head, none of which looked good for 90% of Ugandans can’t swim and there were only 5 life jackets among 20 people. I also thought about what possession I would be most sad at losing – my camera, for it held the trip’s documentation that could not be replaced. I worried that I’d probably only be able to save one person, trying to pick was no fun. I tried to map where I would direct everyone to swim (the 5 with lifejackets and my team, for everyone else would most likely be lost). Then we made it. I was never so glad to touch land as then. I wanted to sink to my knees and kiss the dirt but the thought of trying to explain this ritual to the natives would be cumbersome.
We are now staying in Entebbe in Banana Village. The huts are clean, have showers, and porcelain toilets. This must be what heaven’s like. Tonight we’ll have our first service ministering at the youth camp. Tomorrow morning Maryl and I each have a session. I will be speaking on choosing to let your circumstances affect you positively. Love you all and thanks for your prayers. More to come later.
-Molly
