Uganda Perspective

Merry Christmas 2009

2009-12-25T01:47:00-06:00

Christmas Greetings to everyone in the Land of Clean and Plenty from warm and sunny Uganda.

If you are used to Christmases fully decorated with trees and colored lights and Santa Claus, you would feel at home here, though it seems a little silly to see a jolly fat mzungu dressed to go out in the snow. The bigger cities like Kampala and Mbarara look very festive. Christmas music is everywhere.

It is an exciting time here, the biggest holiday of the year, as we have many of the same traditions as in the West but with a lot less frantic shopping. The meaning of the season takes on a different context where the first thing we do at this time of the year is celebrate the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ. Gathering together with our large families is second. Gift-giving and party-going are last on our mind. You can certainly see last-minute Christmas shoppers, but without the panic you see in London or Chicago.

Christmas here is a time of grateful celebration. Remember, the vast majority of people here have little in the way of material goods, rely on their faith in God as much as they do air, food and water for sustenance. The very idea that our Great and Almighty God loved us so much to become one of us, to be born and live among us, suffer our human frailties, experience the jealousy and evil that is in all of mankind – and demonstrate the alternative - only to have it end in immeasurable suffering, is a thing of wonder. We are grateful to be living in a time of peace – there are no wars or rebellions in Uganda now. We are grateful to be experiencing a growing prosperity – with more businesses starting in Uganda, both home-grown and from international investors. We are grateful for a stable currency, with inflation at less than 6 percent. We are grateful our main roads are under repair. We are grateful for all the schools, that every child has a chance to get a basic education. We are grateful that enough food is grown in the south that we can feed the drought-stricken districts in the north. We are grateful for our leaders who are the most conscientious in Africa. And, we thank God for sending over 600 NGOs to help our country grow and prosper – whether it is providing food, technical assistance, building churches, taking care of orphans, drilling wells or any of a thousand other things.

Thank you, God, for coming to earth in the form of the Savior Jesus Christ. We celebrate this birthday with you and we know you are smiling with us. Merry Christmas to all.

(hat tip to Helping Hands Ministry for the photo)

Boys and Their Toys

2009-12-05T16:41:01-06:00

It doesn’t surprise me that even in the most dire of living conditions, kids will find toys. In The Land of Clean and Plenty, we depend on Toys R Us to present us with choices for entertaining our kids, but where there is no such thing, kids need to come up with their own entertainment.

I was therefore duly impressed when I stopped at the Amagara House Children’s Home in Mbarara last month and found two young men who had just decided they had to have toy cars. In the first example, shown here, a young man took a water jug, poked holes for axles and then made wheels out of the lids of food containers. The end product is colorful, solid and functional, though it could use a car wash.

The second example shown here was created by a young man named Raymond. The vehicle is made up of wire taped together in various places forming a bit of a flimsy body that wobbles and quakes when it is underway. The wheels are crafted out of the soles of old flipflops, cut into circles with a razor blade – and remarkably circular, I must say. The vehicle itself is pushed around by a stalk of sugar cane.

Both of these vehicles provide hours of pleasure for their drivers. And, can’t you just see it, their minds clicking like those of young engineers solving problems to come up with a useful product. To think these kids just a few short years ago were hopeless, hungry, sick orphans with no future. Now they have the time to build clever toys. I can hardly wait to see where life takes these two. Meanwhile, how cool.

View from the Back of a Boda Boda

2009-12-05T08:28:00-06:00

If you want to get anywhere fast in Kampala or any other town, take a boda boda. These are the motorcycles with a seat on the back where you put your life in the hands of a man in a helmet. They get their name from some decades back when motorcycles were used for smuggling goods across the border between Kenya and Uganda. It was easy to navigate un-official crossing points going border to border, thus the Africanized “boda-boda.”

Not only will the Ugandan guy on the Chinese motorcycle burning Saudi fuel get you where you want to go faster than a car or matatu taxi, it will cost you only 1,000 shillings- about sixty cents - no matter where your destination might be. All you need is some guts and not much luggage.

So I set off in the rain with this guy, trying to get from the National Theater to the main post office. Car traffic was stuck but we squeezed through, weaving through minute spaces, praying no one would open a car door. Buses vastly larger than us were mired in the morass of traffic while we whizzed past them. A bicyclist nearly clipped us at a roundabout. Pedestrians jumped out of the way. So did the goats. The road looked slick but we did not slip. I clutched my briefcase in my lap and hung on with my knees – no way I was gonna grab the driver around the waist. I arrived with only a few bugs in my hair and a bit soggy, but hey, it was only 1,000 shillings and I was only ten minutes late for my appointment– which is considered on time in the African context.

I’ve seen well-dressed business women, hair done just so, riding sidesaddle on a boda boda down a dusty dirt road; I’ve seen two men and a piece of furniture on the back of a boda boda; I’ve seen guys in ties on boda bodas, weaving between lanes of stalled motorists. The boda guys hang in clumps on most street corners. Entrepreneurs. Professional drivers. You can find one anywhere. And all for just 1,000 shillings. Let’s go.

Americans Visit Their Sponsored Child

2009-12-03T13:44:34-06:00

While they were in Uganda in November 2009, Margaret and Jerry Webb of Chicago took the opportunity to visit Sylvia, age 5, a child they sponsor through Juna Amagara. It was not an easy journey from Mbarara over paved road at first, then dirt, then a side trail somewhere north of Ibanda, following a track through a forest of Lantana bushes. We came upon a small house where the grandmother, also named Margaret, came out to meet us. Sylvia was there, smiling and ready for hugs. With her were three cousins who also live in the house. Jerry and Margaret got to hear about Sylvia’s life, ask questions of the grandmother and also play with the family. They delivered a gift of coloring books and markers and helped Sylvia understand how to use them. In the end, Sylvia held Margaret’s hand all the way back to the van with the grandmother murmuring “webare kwija” (thank you for coming) over and over.

“It was the most amazing experience,” said Margaret Webb. “This little girl whom we’d known only as a photo and bio instantly touched our hearts. They welcomed us into their home which was so basic – dirt floors, newspapers as decoration on the walls – but so full of love and hospitality, the accommodations didn’t matter. We saw that Sylvia was healthy and well-fed. She shared her school work with us. She laughed. She wanted to be held. I can’t imagine how she and her cousins would be living without Juna Amagara. This is an experience every child sponsor should have; you see instantly how vital you are to the life of this child and her family.”

Do you sponsor a child in Africa? How about Uganda? Click HERE to sponsor a child through Juna Amagara Ministries.

Reforestation – So Critical But So Ignored

2009-11-25T16:13:00-06:00

There is one sure way to combat climate change: plant trees.

Forget the far-out theories of launching high-tech weather balloons to offset hurricanes. Forget blaming automobiles. Forget moaning about the amount of methane gas coming out of the rear ends of cattle. Just plant trees.

Think about it. You get shade, the roots hold the soil, the photosynthetic process of turning CO2 into O2 goes on without requiring fossil fuels, wildlife flourishes, the Sahara Desert stops encroaching, the hydrostatic process returns to normal, feeding the glaciers with snow. The Ganges continues to flow. The Polar Bears survive. Life is good. Just plant trees.

But in the third world, where there is limited fuel and limited economic choice, trees become the first to fall. In Kampala, the gates of Makerere University used to be called Bat Valley for the enormous trees and the bats that lived in them. Those trees are gone. A few short years ago, enormous eucalyptus trees on the State House grounds were home to scores of African Gray parrots. Those trees gave way to a housing development. Vast tracts of the Kigezi Highlands have been cleared for farming. The charcoal makers hack down ancient acacia trees to make product. There is now vigorous debate about opening up the national forests in Uganda to commercial loggers.

At the same time, there is at least lip service for reforestation. In the west, the government has planted some tracts with Pionus pine. Eucalyptus, which grows rapidly, is beginning to be planted in the West. It is said seedlings are available to groups who want to plant them. But it will take millions of trees and at least a decade to make a difference. I for one think Uganda can once again set the example to the rest of the Great Lakes nations by covering its open spaces with trees. The seeds are there. The manpower is there. Every school can plant a thousand. There is space. Let’s do it.

More Than a Basket

2009-11-23T15:50:54-06:00

Five years ago, the grandmothers of rural Kishanje were worn out. They had lived through decades of famine, warfare, rebellion, idiot dictators and warring neighbors. Then, just as they were looking forward to taking their rightful place as respected elders, their children died in the AIDS scourge and they returned to active duty taking care of their grandchildren. In the fields by day, dealing with small children by night, there was nary a thought about old skills the women had enjoyed in their youth.

Fast forward to today. A young man from the village grew up, became a man of God and started an organization that would tutor kids after school. He helped them with homework but also taught them life skills and Christian behavior. He touched their minds, their hearts and their souls and filled up idle hours with valuable skills. Those kids in turn came home, eager to teach their siblings and the grandmas. Life became brighter. And as it did, the grandmas began to revive old weaving skills.

The first efforts three years ago were crude, almost embarrassing. But now the weavers of Kishanje are turning out baskets like none other in Uganda. Rich colors, new patterns, tighter weaves, new shapes. They are simply breathtaking. Multiple Women’s Councils have arisen, much like quilting bees, where ten or twenty meet to talk of their children and to weave. They teach each other. They innovate new styles. As you can see, the products are magnificent.

Each basket is a testimony to the resiliency of the human spirit. Each is a triumph of joy over adversity. Each is a tangible product of hope. Just like the children who are being transformed – woven - into uniquely crafted leaders of tomorrow .

What Shall We Do With Rachel Cinderella?

2009-11-19T20:03:37-06:00

I met Rachel on Wednesday at the New Times Primary School in Kishanje. Dressed in a pink “Drama Queen” sweat shirt over her school uniform, she seemed very short for her age and rarely smiled in the few minutes I spoke to her. Around the school yard, while the other kids laughed and teased each other, she moved like a shadow, keeping to herself, never daring to invite judgment.

I mentioned Rachel to Moureen Kyokusiima, the Director of Child Services for Juna Amagara Ministries here. “She seems distant,” I offered. “Would you like to see where she lives?” Moureen replied. I said I would.

We walked a half hour over steep, meandering paths though the corduroy hills of Kigezi to a mud-walled shack, a house typical of many others in the area. The auntie was home and brought benches outside for sitting. She teetered and fumbled – hospitable but drunk. Three other children hovered by her side. She allowed us inside the hut where we found two single beds for five people. Then, as Rachel crawled into the lap of a visitor, Moureen told me her story.

Rachel’s parents had died of AIDS two years before. Rachel came to live with her only blood relative, this auntie – and her three cousins with a sometimes-present husband. As the uninvited guest, Rachel was expected to earn her keep by doing chores – fetching water and firewood and digging in the garden. This tiny girl was strong and could carry a full jerry can, 40 pounds of water, all day. “That is why she is stunted,” Moureen offered. She sleeps on bare earth. She eats last. She is often beaten and rebuked. The people at Juna Amagara had noticed Rachel and, with the auntie’s permission, invited her to come to school. They found a sponsor to cover school fees. She now gets at least one hot meal a day and spends most of her time in a loving environment. “She was sick and undernourished when we found her,” Moureen said. “Juna Amagara saved this girl’s life.”

Watching Rachel seek a warm lap amid the cold hard reality of her life broke my heart. But what can we do? There are Cinderella children everywhere. What shall we do?

Why Are You Playing With Your Food?

2009-11-02T08:29:00-06:00

My friend Denis happened to stop by on his way from the airport. He had come to the US from Uganda for a month’s training with The Navigators. It was Halloween and as it happened we were in the middle of carving pumpkins when the doorbell rang. Denis came in with effusive greetings. Then he saw the pumpkins.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“We are carving pumpkins. Do you know Halloween?” Denis shook his head. He was staring at the pile of pumpkin guts and half-carved faces. I explained: “This is a tradition in the US where the children dress up in costumes and go door to door begging for candy.” Denis let his glasses slip down his nose in disbelief.

He said, “But you are playing with your food.”

“This is the land of plenty," I replied. "We can play with our food.”

“But I have never seen such a thing.”

“Oh, there’s more,” I said, carving out a toothy grin on my pumpkin palette. This is the night we celebrate the dead. It’s full of ghosts and goblins and ghouls and coffins and spiders and skeletons and people decorate their front yards to look grave yards. It’s all good fun.”

“Yeah, well, okay,” he said. “You celebrate the dead by playing with your food. This place never ceases to amaze me.”

He stuck around long enough to see the pumpkins in the deepening dusk with candles inside, glowing in their goofy-faced glory. “What do you think?”

“You know,” he said, “I think I am hungry for some fresh squash.”

A Hand Up Not a Hand-Out

2009-11-01T18:58:07-06:00

I want to tell you about Obadiah Monday. Isn’t that a great name? I will surely use it in one of my novels.

I have paid this young man’s school fees since 2004 when I met Ob while visiting a secondary school on Bwama Island in LakeBunyonyi with some other Americans. In this indescribably beautiful place, we were greeted by several young men who told us they were orphan boys working their way through school.

Ob was 20 years of age and a junior, certainly older than one would expect, but we learned that if you don’t have school fees, you don’t go to school. Secondary school here is a boarding school. It costs the equivalent of $250.00 for a year of room, board, tuition, books and uniform. But Ob and his friends are orphans – no one takes care of them. And for them to go to school, they have to earn school fees. Between terms, the boys would break rocks, haul water, sell things on the street – anything to earn school fees. Sometimes they don’t make it and they would skip school until they saved enough to return.

This broke our hearts and that day, four of us each agreed to help one student stay in school. Once the burden of earning shillings was lifted from their shoulders, these four started to blossom. They are immensely motivated. Within a year, Ob was 19^th in his class of 64 students. “I want to be a doctor,” he said.

I continued supporting his tuition after secondary school. He had a hard time in junior college but after some extra studies, he graduated. Then he went to work in his home village where he realized he had a talent for organizing people in community development. In one summer, he taught people in three villages how to launch successful beekeeping enterprises. Last year when I met him in Uganda. He said, “Mzee, I want to go to veterinary school to learn animal husbandry. I hate to ask you for more school fees, but will you support me this one last time?” Looking into his eyes, seeing the fire of desire was still blazing, I said I would.

Ob is now 27 years old with one more year of education. So far, his grad school has set me back $800.00 including a lab coat. But I plan to be there when he graduates because, with his winning smile, gentle manner and solid education, this young man will be an outstanding leader, a practicing doctor of social improvement if you will. I’m proud to have helped launch Obadiah. I'm glad he calls me Dad.

You Can Find Yourself in Uganda

2009-02-01T14:44:10-06:00

Twesigye asked me "If there was one thing you would want to say to a worldwide audience about Uganda, what would it be?" That's easy, Rev. Ben said. Come to Uganda to experience the exquisite beauty of the place. Not only is it breathtaking in its scenery, it is a place where the warmth and the joy of the people will make you feel right at home. Winston Churchill called Uganda "The Pearl of Africa." Surely he was speaking of a place of great value, but I cannot help but think he recognized this country as a gift of God and a place where the people live with gratitude for God every day. The door to heaven is described as "the pearly gates," a welcoming place of precious beauty. It is an apt description because a pearl is the only precious gem that is forged out of pain and for which its parent must die before the true beauty can be known, exactly parallel to God's gift to the world of His only son, Jesus Christ.

So, come stand astride the equator. Come stay in our eco-lodges in national parks where you can wander out to find herds of elephants, prides of lions, kob and hippo and baboon. Come swim in our lakes, ride our wild waters, discover our waterfalls. Stay on an island resort in Lake Victoria. See the abundance of tea and cotton and banana and coffee. Stick your toe in the source of the Nile River. Hike the virgin forests and the snow-capped Rwenzori Mountains. It is safe to travel here. The food is good, especially the fruits and vegetables. Accommodations are plentiful. American dollars go a long way. It is easy to get here from Europe.

And while you are here, sit down and talk to us. Tell us about your life. Come meet us in our churches and schools. When you talk to our children, your heart will be melted by their beautiful smiles. Bring people who want to build or teach or preach or sew or heal the sick. Bring your business enterprise - we have lots of educated people and willing workers - and a growing East African market to help you be profitable. Come learn the reality of Uganda. Let us know you are coming and we'll meet you at the airport. Hope to see you soon.
-- with love, Rev. Ben Tumuheirwe, Juna Amagara Ministries