On Safari and Things of That Nature...

After an incredible weekend exploring the wilds of Uganda, I'm back at Rafiki still trying to catch my breath. The exposure to the intense sun for prolonged periods of time has absolutely drained me. Add to that the stresses of souvenir shopping with two girls all day today, and I'm worn out.

Thursday night saw us being driven into the Red Chili Rest Camp in the heart of Kampala by Rafiki's jack-of-all-trades, maintenance guru and native Ugandan, Tobias. In the heart of rush hour it took us an hour to reach our destination, but once there we were suddenly surrounded by many other muzungus (white people). They were from all over: John from Vancouver, Canada, Tom from Birmingham, UK, Stephen, from Ireland...We spent the night at the hostel, in a very primitive "dorm", with 6 beds in our room, adjoined to two other large sleeping rooms sharing a common toilet (whose light happened to shine in my eyes all night as people opened and shut the door). The mosquito nets did their jobs, and no one contracted malaria.

In the morning we paid the remaining balance on our excursion and loaded up the safari van. Seven of us piled in as our driver, a Ugandan named Isaac, was introduced to us. There were the three of us from Rafiki, David and Bryony (a British couple from Scottland), and Sara and Esi (two fourth year med students from Yale doing a six-week rotation at Mulago Hospital in Kampala). After enduring the long, hot, speed-bump infested journey north into the heart of Uganda (for a couple of 5 mile stretches the speed bumps were uniformly distributed about every forty meters or so, making the ride almost unbearable and forcing me to brace myself with my hand against the ceiling as I tried to maintain my sanity in the backseat of the van), we reached Masindi and grabbed lunch at at the local Traveler's Corner restaurant. It was then back to the van and back on the road. After another hour or so of bumpy dirt-road-driving, we finally reached the entrance to Murchison Falls National Park. Entering through the gate, we continued along the same stretch of bumpy road until we encountered our first taste of African wildlife. A troop of baboons was lounging in the middle of the road and finally scattered as our rickety old safari van noisily approached. We were eager to photograph the baboons, being the naive first time safari-ers we were. As we continued on, we spotted what would be the first of very many Jackson's Hartebeests. This member of the impala family have very distinctive curly horns.

Finally, after a prolonged stretch of driving through the southern half of the park, we reached Murchison Falls. After a short hike to the top of the falls, we were blown away by the awesome sight of the two separate falls that briefly divide the river. Such a powerful reminder of God's glory and splendor in creation, Murchison Falls is the world's most powerful naturally occuring surge of water. In awe, we walked around the falls, taking in the beauty of the sight and volume of the sound. Next, we departed for the Red Chili Rest Camp and unloaded for the night. Sleeping in 2-bed bandas (tin-roofed shacks), I was the odd man out and got a banda all to myself (finally some justice...). The food was decent. Dinner was catered obviously to what they assumed Americans would enjoy: hot dogs and spaghetti. Together. During the night a tremendous thunderstorm woke us in the stifling heat of our bandas, the rain mercilessly pounding the tin rooftops overhead, the stray rain drop finding its way in through the windows and splashing me in my bed.

In the morning we headed out on our game drive, leaving camp at 6:30AM in hopes of catching the animals before the heat of the day, when they are most active. For a while we saw almost nothing, as we wound our way through the dirt tracks carved out of the African savannah. Finally we began to see many hartebeests and many other species of impalas. As the diversity increased, we also saw some cape buffalo. Our guide was very knowledgeable and full of interesting information about each species we saw. Finally, sauntering majestically across the road in front of us came a rothschild's giraffe. The sight was incredible, such a big, beautiful creature moving so gracefully in its natural habitat. Indeed that was the hardest part for me, trying to remember that this was indeed the natural habitat of these beautiful animals, and had been so for thousands upon thousands of years. It was like stepping into a time machine and rewinding through history.

As we drove on, the giraffes became more and more common sightings, dotting the gentle hillsides with their spotted hides and long necks reaching for leaves high up in the branches of the accacia trees. We were treated to an extremely rare sighting midway through our drive. Three adult spotted hyenas and one pup came into view. They ran along side our van for a stretch before running ahead of us in the dirt tracks of the trail we were following. Most people on safari never see hyenas and other carnivores because they are nocturnal and do most of their hunting at night.

As the morning pushed on, we began to wonder if we would ever see any elephants. Finally, on our way back, we spotted them a ways off the road. With binoculars and camera lenses that zoomed in, we were able to get a pretty good glimpse of them wandering through the tall grasses.

An afternoon ferry ride up the Nile to the falls itself provided an excellent opportunity to see hundreds of hippos and a few Nile crocodiles in action.

On our way home on Sunday, we stopped at the rhino sanctuary, a breeding program designed to eventually reintroduce white rhinos back into the wild in Uganda; they had been poached out of existence in the country. Only 8 remain in captivity in Uganda- six at the sanctuary and two at the Entebbe zoo. It is estimated that it will take 30 years to increase the numbers enough to introduce the herd into Muchison Falls National Park and the Queen Elizabeth National Park. Once our guide had determined the location of the rhinos, we hopped out of the four vehicles we were in and followed him through the bush. We were actually trecking through the African bush in pursuit of rhinos. On foot! And there they were, gently grazing in the densely wooded thickets we had walked through. We were able to get within about 8 meters from one of them, with nothing in between us and them. So cool!

We finally completed our odyssey and made it back home to Rafiki Sunday night. And took a shower. And slept.

More Paint = More Fun

The last few days have passed along without much happening out of the ordinary. On Monday, we hosted a travelling troupe of puppeteers from the Netherlands. Led by Andre, the father-mother-son combination set up their puppet theater in our dining hall and made two performances, one for the primary grades and one for the secondary. As most of the children at Rafiki, and indeed most African children in general, have never seen a puppet, let alone witnessed a puppet show, Andre has honed his presentation into an educational experience for his audience, describing the process of making a puppet out of a gourd, some cloth, and a fancy paint job. The children were delighted at the show, for, as the director of education put it, most of these kids (at least the ones who live out in the village) don't have much joy in their lives. Many of these same kids eat their midday meal at Rafiki, and that's the last meal they eat for the day. I'm trying to fathom what that would be like. I can't.

Each morning this week, I have spent several hours painting those fascia boards along the roofline of the dining hall. It turned out to be a monster job, taking about 8 hours in all to complete. I finished this morning and triumphantly marched my step ladder and paint can back to Toby and showered up, pulling my best Clark Kent and transforming from "Uncle Paint", which I was being referred to by the little passersby, back into "Uncle Gareth", or simply "Uncle".

We have found ourselves becoming accustomed to an early morning racket coming from the local mosque. At 5:45 AM we hear the call to worship echoing through the valley. Apparently they have just obtained a new speaker system. It has also become apparent to me that there are no noise ordinances in Uganda. When the wife of the village director asked one of her hired workers on Sunday morning how he copes with the loud noise (his home is much closer to the mosque than Rafiki), he wore a confused expression and said simply, "I don't hear anything. It doesn't concern me." We were very impressed by his response, how devoted his heart is to Jesus that he truly does not hear the babble of the lost world around him. Yet my heart breaks for the Muslim community.

We have heard staggering numbers of child sacrifices that still occur in Uganda, performed by the animist witch doctors. I believe the number was 308 reported in 2008. The UN and US are working diligently with the Ugandan government to put an end to the killings, as well as the steady human trafficking that is reported to be in full swing in parts of the country. Please be in prayer that the Lord protect the innocent from these heinous crimes and that such evil would come to an abrupt end.

We are eagerly anticipating tomorrow evening, when we head out for our three day safari to Murchison Falls. If you want to see where we will be going, just google it. It should be incredible. We talked to a couple who just got back this evening from the very same safari and they said they saw a huge amount of wildlife. So that is exciting.

God bless you all.

Journey to the Middle of the World

At 9AM Saturday, all four of us short-term missionaries departed Rafiki, riding with the village director, Mike, en route to a place that, for me, had been only a legend, existing in the deep reservoirs of my imagination. A place so central to humanity that it unites nations and divides the seasons. Yes, that's right. On Saturday, February 14th, 2009, I, Gareth Bridge, stepped foot on a yellow line painted across a highway in southern Uganda. With one small step for man, and a completely irrelevant step for mankind, I crossed into the southern hemisphere.

And then back into the northern. And then the southern. And then the northern again. I had lots of fun with that. The tourist-trap establishment that has been set up at the Uganda equator held our attention for the morning, as we visited each of the many small souvenir huts lining that main road intersecting the world's dividing line. We took our picture in the circular ring standing up right off the road, with the line running through it. We declined, however, to pay 10,000 shillings to watch a water-spinning demonstration in two funnels on either side of the line. We'll just take their word for it. Plus, I read that it's all bogus, that the coriolis effect cannot be observed in such a small quantity of water, and that any variation in water spin direction is based on direction of water flow upon entering the funnel and variations in the surface of the funnel itself. That's the consensus that I've reached, based on my extensive internet research. I apologize if that is incorrect information.

After a harrowing morning of pushy sales-people, it was time for a snack. I ordered a plate of french fries, which took about 45 minutes to prepare. I glanced behind the counter as I placed my order and saw the potatoes lying on a cutting board. At least they were fresh!

Today was church, which meant for us another trip into Kampala. This time we 4 rode with Mike to New City Church, the church he and his wife regularly attend here. Pastor Gerald, who, as a teen, was adopted by an African American Baptist pastor back in San Antonio, preached this morning. He spent 16 years in the states completing his education and has moved back home to Kampala to lead a congregation of his own. He was an incredible preacher, delivering a very convicting and challenging message regarding the decline of the western church and the acceptance of the Christian life as "business as usual". He implored us to live Christ-centered, joyful lives of passion in which we took responsibility for the gifts God has given each of us, as members of the priesthood of all believers. He also challenged the missionaries present (there was a good number of us white "mzungus" in attendance) to work along side the nationals we have come to serve, emphasizing the fact that they are in no way deficient.

After church we enjoyed a feast at the Fang Fang Chinese hotel. It was by far the most authentic Chinese food I have ever had (so I gather). There is quite a sizable oriental population in Kampala, but nowhere near the size of the Indian population. There is actually a program set up by Chinese businessmen in which Chinese girls sign a 2-year commitment to come work at the restaurant as hostesses and waitresses. Some of the businessmen are Christians and are teaching the girls in Bible studies while they are here. Pretty neat.

That's all for now. Back to school tomorrow. God bless.

Emergency Water Conservation

We woke this morning to a phone call warning us to be extremely careful in our water consumption today. A hose was left on all night, dumping 27,000 gallons of water and draining the water reserve to one half day's worth. That meant little flushing, no washing clothes, sparse washing of dishes, etc. across Rafiki.

I was also asked to fill in for 8th grade Bible class and biology class, an opportunity I jumped at. Not only did I get to teach my favorite subject in the world, but I got to get out of paint duty. After those early morning classes, the day dragged on slowly. I did not sleep very well last night, and I suffered with exhaustion throughout the day. It seemed particularly warm today, as well. Finally I was able to snap out of my trance around 330. I ate with a new family of girls this evening, and afterwards spent time lifting the small ones high into the air over and over again before finally learning how to play "African dodgeball". Which was SOO fun. One person in the middle, and everyone else trying to peg you with a single ball. Granted the age of my competition, I was able to stay in the middle most of the game, which it turned out was exactly what they wanted. They loved seeing the muzungu (white person) dancing around in the middle making funny noises every time he dodged a ball. Little Janey, from the trip to the hospital yesterday, was energetic and laughing the whole time, evidently having a great day.

After some much needed American food this evening at one of the missionary's houses, we watched Prince Caspian on their wall projector. A nice break in the action.

After my experience at Melago hospital, I wrote down some thoughts and kind of came up with a poem of sorts. Kind of a contrast between hope and despair in the light of medicine. I'll post it below.

God bless.


Melago

See the faces in the dark-
Weary faces seeking hope.
They've travelled near and travelled far
All eyes fixed on the stethoscope.

Down the dreary hall he runs-
White coat rustling in the air-
When for an instant darkness parts
And each eye turns to stare.

A glint of light penetrates the gloom,
The shiny metal gleams-
Each breath held still across the room,
Or at least that's how it seems.

And for one child in mother's arms
Or wheezing feeble frame
The stethoscope has come this hour,
Calling out a name.

The weight of sickness settles in,
That shining beacon gone.
Aching eyes must readjust,
Crowded yet alone.

"Feed the hungry, and help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon."
-Isaiah 58:10

"When the Lord saw her, His heart overflowed with compassion. 'Don't cry!' He said."
-Luke 7:13

Paint and Melago Hospital

Wednesday morning I changed my routine. I had arranged to help the man in charge of maintenance with some manual labor. At 8 o'clock, as the children headed off to class for the day, I lathered up in SPF 55 and headed to the work shop in the back of the compound. The jack-of-all-trades-handy-man Tobias, or Toby, mixed some paint and paint thinner for me, and I set off up a step ladder to paint the wooden fascia around the roof of the workshop. It was only 8 AM, but the grass was still soaked with the rain from the night before and I quickly found myself with wet feet, and a soon-to-be wet set of clothes from the sweat I would work up. After about an hour of painting, I moved on to painting the fascia of the first missionary house in the row of houses lying ahead of me. As I got sweatier and sweatier, it became nearly impossible to apply an extra coat of sunblock. The sun's rays got stronger and stronger as it rose in the morning sky, becoming incredibly oppressive. Moving the step ladder and extension ladder around, climbing up and down, and painting back and forth absolutely wore me out, and by 1 o'clock I was ready to retire. From life. Luckily I had been able to drink enough to keep from getting dehydrated.

I am continuing to get the opportunity to tutor several students in the lower and middle schools, many of whom are desperately behind in their studies. Some 7th grade students have the academic abilities of 3rd and 4th graders, especially in math. In Uganda, students need only pass 7 out of 8 of their subjects to move on to the next grade, and teachers need only be proficient in 7 out of the 8 disciplines. Naturally, this creates a pitfall that snares students in the toughest area for many: math.

Today we had a real treat. The three of us rode into Kampala with Doctor Tyler to take a little 5-year-old girl named Jane to Melago hospital. It is the only government hospital in Uganda. People come from all over the country to be seen, especially those who cannot afford to go to a private hospital. As always, driving through Kampala was an adventure in itself. We left at 7am, and traffic was beginning to get bad. The near complete absence of streetlights results in terrible traffic backups, as no one observes any road rules at crowded intersections. One or two ineffective policemen try to direct traffic. As we neared the hospital, we drove past a golf course that seemed very out of place. After a quick trip to the mall, we made it to the hospital. We wandered up and down the open air corridors, past a slightly ajar set of double doors labeled "Main Operating Theatre" opening into the outside courtyard. On the third floor we took a look inside a ward. Similar sight to the ward we saw at Mengo. Finally it was time to make our way to outpatient service, a crowded outdoor waiting room. After a wait of about 10 minutes, a young black doctor came running up excitedly and led all 5 of us down a wing and into the most crowded hallway of patients I have ever seen. I couldn't count them. I was relieved to step into a dimly lit exam/consultation room, where the doctor discussed Jane's case with Tyler. Jane has haemolytic anemia due to unknown causes, and our mission has been to try to identify the cause and discover the best way to try to treat her symptoms and determine if it will be possible to find a cure. After consulting with a Spanish-born, Venezuelan raised doctor who practices in Denver (who happened to be doing a 3 week stint teaching at Melago), the general consensus is that most likely has a genetic defect in how here blood levels are maintained. A splenectomy is a possibility several years from now, but for now the doctor just ordered more blood work. A splenectomy is the removal of the spleen. The spleen is responsible for breaking down and recycling old red blood cells. It is also a blood reservoir in emergencies. It is thought that Jane's spleen, which is swollen when she is feeling bad, is breaking down too many blood cells. Ok, I know, too much information.

Getting a chance to see the hospital and the true conditions that exist there was a wonderful experience. I wish I could have stayed to see more. But Tyler took us to a Dutch-owned deli and an Italian gelato shop afterwards. We were in heaven.

We're all feeling better now, by the way. Thanks for your prayers. God bless.

After a tasty meal of not-quite-well-enough-cooked-chicken Sunday night, I suffered a bout of food poisoning Monday evening. Looking on the bright side, it has kept me out of the dining hall for over 24 hours now. Not wanting to sound ungrateful, but the food is different here. To offer just one example, the staple food of Uganda is matooke, pronounced muh-toh-kay. It looks like a banana that never ripens (green), has the texture of a potato, and tastes extremely bland. It must be eaten with some kind of sauce. We are not sure why the locals call it comfort food.

I had a slow day of sleeping, sitting in front of my computer, and tutoring today, finished off with my attempt to cook pancakes in our house. They actually turned out alright, much to the girls' surprise.

We have all felt a little sick do to food and malaria medicine lately, so please pray that we recover quickly. Two of us may be switching our medicines under the supervision of the doctor here.

The Adventure of Getting To Church

I was scheduled to meet two of the "families" of ten kids and their "mamas" at 10 this morning to go to church. The taxi, as with most things African, was running extremely late. It finally pulled up, and all 23 of us, plus a driver and one other man, piled into the European style white van with blue stripes on the sides (labeling it a taxi).

Traffic was much crazier this morning on the way into Kampala than during the week. People milling about everywhere. It rained during the night, and the roads had all turned to mud. The sights and smells this morning were overwhelming. Riding shotgun, I took in the woman bent over a sewing machine just outside her doorway, the steaming pots and pans preparing the food sold on the side of the road, the chicken wandering between an oblivious man's straddled legs. The smell of rotting vegetation hit me as we idled next to a heap of discarded food parts.

We finally made it to Kampala Baptist Church, where the service had already begun. Sitting on the front row with our boys, I eventually found myself standing in front of the congregation and introducing myself on a microphone, along with the other first time guests. The worship experience was actually similar to an American Southern Baptist service, and I found it fascinating when the conversation turned to missions. We prayed for members of this church in Uganda who were missionaries to the UK. Talk about a shift in perspective.

The trip home was terrifying. At one point, the road, if it can be called a road, was so steep and so bumpy that I took one look and thought, "Surely we won't attempt that. It looks much more like moguls on a red ski slope than any path an automobile could possibly take." We went down it.

This, I have to imagine, had to be some sort of short cut, off the beaten path, litterally. Winding through sloppy, red mud roads, we several times came to a dead stop where the road was blocked by slow-reacting cattle, which we have affectionately named "holler-horns", for their massive, yet nearly weightless, hollow horns curving straight up into the air. Most of the "buildings" we drove past seemed to me to be completely uninhabitable, consisting of little more than a pile of crumbling bricks arranged around a door post and a sheet of metal balanced precariously on top, yet at each one stood a family of Ugandans, enduring the poverty they have become accustomed to. Many taxis have slogans stuck across the top of the windshield, many which say something to the effect of, "Jesus Cares". The message of a God who loves and cares speaks so clearly to a society in so much need of hope.

Where besides Uganda would you expect to see a young goat eating grass happily in the middle of a busy roundabout?

The pace of life is very slow here, and we have lots of unstructured free time in the evenings, and we are beginning to get a little stir-crazy when we are not busy applying ourselves to a task. I'm not the only one who can't sit still, Mum. Be praying that we remember God is using us at all times and that his purpose be our purpose. God bless.