Goodbye to Kampala: My Home Sweet Home

I knew the day would come when I would write about my goodbye to Kampala. It was hard enough to experience and writing about it is even more difficult. In the past two years, Kampala went from an unknown city to my home.

In ways, my first weeks in Kampala seem like yesterday. The city was full of dust and overrun with taxis, motorcycle taxis (boda-bodas), people, animals and more. The roads seemed a maze of confusion and as we drove through the madness, I wondered if I’d ever be able to get around on my own. The thought of driving scared me to death, not to mention navigating my way around. Familiarity came with time. I remember the moment when I realized that I could navigate my way to the grocery store by myself. It was such a relief. In ways, my life was quite normal. Every day, I drove to an office, worked until 5 and came home. And yet, living in Africa is anything but normal. However, it became my normal and I loved it.

My goodbye to Kampala was overwhelming. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more loved in my life. The Hope Alive! Kampala site put on a talent show for me. It was more than I could have ever dreamed. The kids performed skits, sang songs, performed a fashion show and danced. I loved every second of it. I love watching them perform. I always feel like a proud mother in the crowd cheering them on. The joy in their eyes shows how much they love it as well.

I took a lot of video that take in order so that I would never forget it. The following are two videos that mean the world to me. The first is my girls singing a song together. They added a verse that made me cry. The second is a poem that my sweet Brenda wrote about me. Again, another one that makes me cry.

Aren’t they gorgeous!? I love these girls so much and am so proud of them. We got some fun group pictures of that day as well.

I had my last Bible study with my girls. It was so hard to think of ending what we had been doing for so long. Looking into each of their beautiful faces, I wanted them to know who they were in Christ. Not who they were according to what they thought of themselves or what they had been told by others. No, they needed to know what Christ thinks of them and to find themselves in Him. These girls are hard and rarely show emotion. It was because of this that I was surprised at how many tears were shed by many of the girls.

My last couple weeks were full of a lot of “lasts”. My last home visits: visiting the families that I had come to know and love over these two years. It was not only hard to say goodbye to the kids but also to their parents. I visited Monica’s house for the last time. She made an incredible meal for us and spoke truth from the Word of God. My last trip to the market. My last trip to downtown Kampala (I can’t say that I’ll ever really miss that insanity). My last service at Lugogo Baptist Church. The last dinner with my roommates.

My friends threw a goodbye party for me on one of my last nights there. It was wonderful having so many that I love in one place. It still seems surreal that I can’t call them up and see them.

I’m a long processor. When I left Uganda, it didn’t seem real. It was such a hectic time that I wasn’t able to process that I was actually leaving. I didn’t cry at the talent show (I teared up but no tears). I didn’t cry at the last girls Bible Study. I didn’t cry at my goodbye party. It all was so surreal. The only time I cried was when I read a letter from one of my girls. Her words humbled me completely and left me amazed at how God has worked in and through me. Besides that…I was tearless….until it all clicked in a few weeks ago.

I was in Colorado for long term training at WorldVenture. I was about to go into the biggest interview of my life. This interview would determine if I would be accepted as a WorldVenture missionary. It was extremely stressful as well, they could say no. I knew how God had specifically called me to this and the thought of being told “no” at this point? It scared the mess out of me. God kept reminding me that He had truly called me to this and that He wouldn’t stop it now…but my nerves were taking over. It was at this point that it finally hit that I was gone. I wasn’t going to be seeing my girls for a long time. I wasn’t around my kids. I had gone…and the tears wouldn’t stop coming. And they haven’t really stopped since then. Every time I look at my pictures, read the incredible book that my girls put together for me, read the dozens of letters that the kids wrote to me…I can’t stop the tears from coming.

Awkward side note: the tears started approximately one hour before my massive interview. It was like a perfect storm of stressful insanity. For those that know me, you know that I’m not one that cries. I don’t really process by crying and I definitely don’t cry in front of people if I can help it. Tears are literally streaming down my face 5 minutes before my interview. I get it together right before entering the room. First question to me? “Sarah, tell us what you love about Uganda.” Did I mention that I’m an ugly crier? Oh my gosh. It was OUT OF CONTROL. Luckily, they didn’t see me as a psycho emotional crazy girl and still accepted me. Whew.

Goodbye Kampala, my home sweet home.

Goodbye familiar dusty pot-filled roads.

Goodbye morning traffic jams into work. I won’t miss you.

Goodbye to my compound and home. You were such a calming retreat to come home to.

Goodbye to Biajo and Juliet. I always felt safe and cared for thanks to you two.

Goodbye to those creepy men at Nakawa Market that would yell crude things to me. I also won’t miss you.

Goodbye to my sweet Hope Alive! kids. I love each of you deeper than you could ever know. You are in my heart and in my prayers…always.

Goodbye especially to Emma, Joseph, Andrew, Prossy, Dora, Agnes, Kevin, Benard, Lovin, Comfort, Justin and Flavia. Each of you specifically has a special place in my heart. I love each of you so much and hope to still be involved in each of your lives for years to come.

Goodbye to each of my girls: Esther, Emily, Rita, Shamila, Agnes, Brenda, Hope, Dutchess, Sandra, Sarah, Ruth, Jean, Lucy, Joan, Brenda, Jillian, Nancy and Paula. I always felt that I could never fully express exactly how much I loved each one of you. I felt like my heart was bursting every time we were together. You all are my inspiration. I see so much in each of you and cannot wait to see how God will use each and every one of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I miss you more than I could ever put into words. My tears come whenever I think of you.

Goodbye to my most amazing friends. I always felt like I didn’t deserve to have such incredible friends there. I am forever grateful to you all for your encouragement, love and support. You shared your culture with me, explained things numerous times and were so patient with me. There is no thanks that could ever be enough. I am so grateful to have each of you in my life. Special thanks to Georgina, Lonnah, Dorothy and Shammah. I would have been absolutely lost without you girls. Nkwagala nyo nyo nyo!

Goodbye to Hope Alive! and to Catharine. It’s been my honor to work for you these past two years. I've learned so much from your wisdom. I can only pray that I made some sort of organizational difference. But, more than the database and paperwork, when I think of Hope Alive!, I think of the people. I think of the site managers, the mentors and the kids. There’s been exciting moments and really disappointing heartbreaking moments…and we’ve grown together through them all.

Goodbye to my roommates. Ugh, do you know how boring my life is without you two!? I miss the laughs, the Mexican fiesta nights, the Alias marathons, the road trip adventures, and really, watching you two shine in what you’re doing.

The good thing about my goodbye to Kampala, and Uganda, is that it is not final. I praise GOD that He is sending me back to this country that I love so much. So, really, this isn’t so much of a “goodbye” as it is a “see you later”. For my sake, I’m hoping “later” is actually “really really soon”.

Masaka: The Last Visit

I remember my first trip to Masaka. The view from our hotel overlooked the lush green rolling hills of the small town. It reminded me of Lynchburg, VA where I had lived for so many years. Because of that, it always felt a little bit like home and I always looked forward to visiting there. The kids in Masaka are also different. In Gulu, there’s extreme poverty but at the same time, many of the kids have received aid from NGO’s for years thus bringing an attitude of expectancy. In Kampala, there’s a lot more opportunities for the kids due to the largeness of the city. The kids are street wise. But…Masaka…it’s just different. There are kids in desperate need there but the attitude is just different. It’s refreshing.

My last trip to Masaka almost didn’t happen. Riots started in Kampala and spread to various towns through Uganda, including Masaka. In talks with my field leader, it was just not safe to go. We delayed the trip, all the while praying that things would calm down enough for me to go. It was very important to me to say goodbye to those in Masaka. In addition to my goodbye’s, I had some business to do. I was seriously concerned that I wouldn’t be able to go. At last, the riots calmed down and it was deemed safe enough for me to travel. The trip was cut down considerably. We drove down on a Saturday and would head back on Sunday morning.

My “business” in Masaka was an exciting one. My friend’s Gloria and Maria had some leftover money from their previous trip here that they wanted to go to the families of Beatrice and Madina. There was enough money that Beatrice’s mom and Madina could either start a small business or take some courses. I’ve already talked in detail about my beloved Beatrice. I was so anxious to see her again. Madina is one of the mentors for Hope Alive! in Masaka who has struggled considerably. Her husband has another wife and comes back to Madina’s home only to use and abuse her and their five children. Her health has taken a turn for the worse and a few weeks prior, we weren’t sure if she was going to make it through. By the grace of God, she was feeling much better when we arrived. Her and her children ran from their small mud house to where our car was when we pulled up. The joy of the Lord literally bursts out of her and her face was just shining.

We spent time in their home catching up. Hannah (friend and fellow WorldVenture missionary) and Wendy (visitor from States to Hope Alive!) both came with me to Masaka and it was great to introduce them to Madina and her great family. Their strength in the Lord has always left me in awe. I often wonder when I meet people who live in such circumstances if I could have the faith and strength that they do. Would I have the joy of the Lord shining through me if this was my life? I admire Madina and all that she does for her kids but mostly, for her overwhelming love for the Lord.

After we met with Madina, we headed back to the Hope Alive! site to hopefully meet up with Beatrice before Saturday club. Beatrice and her mentor, Justice, met up with us for lunch. I wanted to cry as I saw her coming toward me. We had a fun lunch together. Justice is actually the principal of Beatrice’s school. I was relieved to know that her mentor was so involved in her life. At last, someone to love and care for my girl! I didn’t realize how important that was until later that day.

After lunch, we headed over to Saturday Club where I was to teach the high school girls there. I was honored that Rose, the site director, had asked me to speak to these girls and was excited to share with them. We had a great discussion about how God sees us and how that effects how we are to live our lives for Him.

We headed to Beatrice’s home after Saturday Club. She lives with her mom far out of Masaka, down and around dirt roads in the middle of nowhere.

Sidenote: The middle of nowhere is perhaps my favorite part of Africa. I just love being out in the middle of the bush visiting families.

Justice had updated us over lunch about Beatrice’s mom. In looking for her mom to tell her that we were coming, Justice discovered that the mom had been staying with different men, leaving her small children to fend for themselves for days. My heart was broken. We got Beatrice out of her dad’s place because of how he abused and neglected her. To find out that her mom was doing the same…it was too much. I felt so helpless. Here I had come with dreams and hopes that the mom would be able to start a small business to support her family only to find out that she was neglecting and starving her children. I cried out to God, “who will love this girl!? “. I love Beatrice so deeply and am baffled at why her parents don’t seem to care for her or her brothers. God’s answer? “Me”. His love for Beatrice remains constant. HE is her Provider. He has provided sweet Justice, a mentor for Beatrice who cares for her. We had brought food for Beatrice and her family. Justice kept it at her place and cooked for the kids for the next few days as they waited for their mom to at last return. When the mom returned, she was ashamed. She hid herself for some time from Justice but eventually came to her. From what Justice says, things are going better. Beatrice’s mom is staying home and actually caring for her children. Please pray with me that if she’s not a believer, that she comes to accept Jesus as her Savior and that through that, His love will flow through her to her children. May they all experience the great love of our God.

Hugging Beatrice goodbye was surreal. My heart didn’t want to begin to contemplate that this was the last hug that we would have for a very long time. I saw Justice a few weeks later in Kampala. She told me that she had never seen Beatrice as happy as when she was with me. Oh, my sweet Beatrice…may you understand how God loves you much more than I ever could.

Goodbye to those lush green rolling hills that brought me a sense of home.
Goodbye to Rose, the most wonderful and efficient site director. You did your work for God’s glory and it was clear in all that you did.
Goodbye to Shammah, Rose’s son. Oh buddy, you know your Auntie Sarah will love you, your cute cheeks and sweet smiles forever.
Goodbye 10 Tables for your great taste of Western food in that small town.
Goodbye to all the fabulous Hope Alive! mentors. You all inspired me. Most of you are widows and a mother to so many children. Your love for Christ astounds me.
Goodbye to Madina. Your love for Christ and joy in Him humbles me.
Goodbye to all the Hope Alive! kids. You showed me that Christ can be seen even in the most difficult circumstances.
Goodbye to Shakirah. My sweet girl, you’ve had such a hard life. May you find your strength in the Lord.

And, at last…goodbye to my sweet Beatrice. Tears stream down my face as I think of you and the pain you’ve experienced in your young life. Your precious smile remains even as you search for love from your parents. My sweet girl, your Heavenly Father loves you so deeply. May you find your hope and salvation in Him.

Goodbye, Masaka. You are filled with so many that I love deeply. I look forward to returning to you some day as you hold a most special place in my heart.

Gulu: The Last Visit

My time in Uganda is coming soon to an end. Has two years really gone by? I can’t believe it. I feel as though I’m grasping to make the most of every moment and yet, I’m living in denial of my departure. I can’t imagine not being here…and I don’t want to.

This next month of my life will be filled with a lot of traveling and a lot of goodbyes. It has officially started as I went to Gulu for my last trip here here. Crazy. My roommates spend March in Gulu as they both had things that they needed to be here for an extended time for. Though I begged and pleaded, I was much more needed in Kampala than Gulu. I came up on a Thursday to spend my last trip here with them during their last days here.

The coming here part was an adventure in and of itself as I took the public bus. Take away all pictures in your mind of an American school bus or a fancy charter bus. It is neither of these. The goal of these buses is to fit as many passengers (and animals, if need be) in as possible. I had take buses to another town as well as Rwanda before so I had an idea in my mind of what to expect. However, it was my first trip alone. And this bus was not as nice as the one to Rwanda. The bus was scheduled to take off at 6:30am but I was to be there 30 minutes early. My driver was 20 minutes late and I was in panic sweat mode. If there were even a slight bit of traffic, there would be no way that I was making my bus. Luckily, my driver busted it into town and I got there just in time. Just in time to go through security, that is. I was the only white person around and the security guard took great pleasure in selecting my bag (and only my bag) to open up and go through. I think he just wanted to see what was inside. I got on the bus and was directed to my seat. It was then that I realized the difference between this and the Rwanda bus: space. I’m a short girl and thus, can fit pretty easily in most spaces. It was a tight squeeze in my seat and the guy next to me was pressed closely.

Oh yes, my seat buddy. Keep in mind, this is 6:30am. This is not chatty happy time for Sarah. I wanted to slouch in my seat, iPod on and sleep. Seat Buddy wanted nothing of that, as there was a white girl next to him that he could get to know. This white girl did not want to get knowed. That didn’t stop him. Besides invading my personal space for the next five hours, he decided that he needed to make some demands of me. Whenever I would open my eyes, take an earbud out of my ear or any other indication that he would be heard, he’d start to tell me some of the following:

“When you get to Gulu, I am going to stay with you.”
“When you get to Gulu, you are going to buy me a soda. One in a glass bottle.”

Those were the two main one that he repeated over…and over…and over again. Especially about the soda. For the entirety of my five hour bus ride. He then decided that instead of one sentence demands, he would give me a 10 minute “cultural lesson” on why I was culturally required to do this for him. His main point was that since I was sitting next to him, I was to show my appreciation of this by buying him his list of demands. I clearly did not agree.

After arriving in Gulu, I tagged along with what Kate and Kacie had been doing for the past three weeks. I visited schools with Kate, taking pictures of our kids for their sponsors. We visited vocational schools to see where our kids would best fit. That night, we had dinner with all of our Hope Alive! staff in Gulu. It was great seeing the mentors again and catching up with them. I’ve always felt so honored working alongside such people.

The next day, I went to some more schools with Kate. I then got to meet up with Irene! Irene was one of our students in Kampala. She had been staying with an aunt there but trouble began with her side of the family and her aunt’s. Irene was in the middle and thus became the example. Her aunt kicked her out of the house. We sat in our office with Irene and her father, both sobbing and not knowing what to do. Her father lived in Gulu but moving Irene to Gulu would uproot her from her school, friends and all that she had known. There was no other option and Gulu was seen as the best option for her. I hadn’t seen Irene since that tear filled day in our office and I was dying to see how she was doing. It ended up turning into quite the scene. I took a boda to her school, as I couldn’t remember how to get there. When I arrived, there were in the midst of an all school assembly…and my boda had arrived at the front of it. I made my way behind the school as to not cause a further scene. I found a teacher and asked if Irene could come. Tears came to my eyes when I saw her walking towards me. I had missed her so much. We hugged for awhile…that is, until another teacher came up to us and asked us to move inside as we were distracting the students. In my excitement, I hadn’t realized that the entire school population had turned to watch our little reunion. I looked beyond Irene and saw hundreds of little faces staring and giggling our way. We moved into the office and I got caught up on her life in Gulu. She misses Kampala terribly but likes her school and has made many friends. That day, she was actually campaigning for a leadership position in her class. I was so proud of her.

On Saturday, we went to a lot of homes. Caroline works at the hotel that Kate and Kacie had stayed at for that month. They had gotten to know her well and she invited us all over to her house. We got to meet her adorable daughter (who was scared out of her mind that white people were in her house) and were served an incredible meal. We then headed to the Feeding Centre to meet up with a mentor and visit some of our kids’ homes. The mentor asked us if we were ready to “foot” for a long time. We were ready…or so we thought. It was about 45 minutes later that we arrived at the first house, deep in the African bush. They welcomed us with smiles and an entire meal, chicken included. Meat is such a precious treat here and it was incredibly humbling to receive this from them. We went to about four other homes. At one, they brought out a chicken as a gift for us, squawking, and handed it straight to Kacie, the only vegetarian. I got much humor out of this. Kate carried it the rest of the way and named her Sal. She said it was for Salvadora but I thought it was for Salmonella. Sal would squawk at the most awkward times, mainly during prayer or other such serious moments. We were out for four hours, three of which were spent walking on little dirt paths in the middle of nowhere. I love it. I love walking so deep in the village and meeting these families; so hidden off of small dirt paths.

We went to a church in the bush that Kate and Kacie had been going to. It was mostly women and children, with very few men. I got emotional during praise and worship. I’m going to miss worshipping God, Ugandan style. After church, we began our journey back to Kampala. It was a considerably more comfortable ride back than the one up.

The memories of Gulu, however, will remain:
-My roach (and every other kind of bug) filled hotel room on my first trip
-Getting lost trying to find the UN offices.
-The ridiculous sunburn that followed getting lost trying to find the UN offices.
-Listening to the local instruments play during worship.
-Mary leaving her hand outside her mosquito net and getting 500 bites.
-Buying cold water bottles and putting them on our necks to cool us down on hot days.
-Watching Shem and Kate play basketball.
-Watching Shem dunk on Kate.
-Getting asked for our phone numbers at the Chinese restaurant and having Kacie tell them to google us.
-Attempting to speak Acholi...and getting laughed at.
-Being a part of enrolling new kids and hearing their stories.
-Going to my first village burial.
-Walking through the bush on home visits; my favorite thing.
-The family handing the live chicken straight to Kacie, the only vegetarian.
-Walking arm in arm with Charles on the way to the hut that he shared with his two sisters.
-So many sweat filled nights…and days…

Goodbye to the Hope Alive! staff.
Goodbye to the Hope Alive! kids.
Goodbye to the intense heat.
Goodbye to the 50600399903724 NGO’s.
Goodbye to the dusty roads.
Goodbye to the familiar roads.
Goodbye to the random Chinese restaurant who has no lighting.
Goodbye to sweet Daffine and her family.
Goodbye to the small market.
Goodbye to the feeding centre.

Goodbye, Gulu. You remain in my heart and memories forever. I will see you again...

First Class: Part 2

Back in 2007, I went on a trip to Kenya, We flew with Virgin Atlantic. Our first flight from DC was canceled due to a hole in the plane (encouraging, right?) and they gave us a LOT of miles due to that plus the miles we got from our journey. Those miles were expiring this December and were enough to get me a flight to Nairobi. Sweet.

Ever since I had planned this trip to the States, I had no idea what I was going to do about my 16 hour layover in London. I knew that I didn’t want to spend 16 hours in the main insane area of Heathrow. Due to it being December, I also knew that I didn’t want to spend 16 hours out in the frigid cold. Virgin Atlantic has a lounge in Heathrow for their first class passengers. I had looked at the possibility of buying miles to upgrade to first class purely for the lounge. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. When I got to the airport in DC, I asked what the cost would be to upgrade to first class. When she quoted $1300, I knew that I was in for a long layover in the crazy main area of Heathrow. She told me to check with the lounge in London to see if I could get a day pass. A day pass!? I didn’t even know those existed. When I landed in London, I went to their counter to ask about a day pass. They directed me to the lounge who told me that I could come four hours before my flight. Um, and what about the next 12 hours? They then directed me to the American Airlines lounge directly below for the meantime. The American Airlines lounge was surprisingly pretty cheap, had great showers, free food, drinks and WiFi. Since I had a bazillion tests to finish for WorldVenture, I settled in and got everything done.

When it was four hours before my flight, I debated on whether to go up to the Virgin Atlantic lounge since I was already so comfortable in the American Airlines lounge. Knowing that I’d never get this chance again, I headed up to the VA lounge.

My first thought upon entering the VA lounge: Oh, so this is what first class people experience.
My second thought: I stick out like a sore thumb. It's like they know my shoes are from Payless and I got my Gap jeans on sale. I shrugged my shoulders and sat down to enjoy an amazing meal. In the lounge, they offered free services to their spa so I got a good manicure. It was incredible. Once my layover ended, I was feeling so blessed. Beginning that day, I had no idea if I’d have a quiet place to get things done and God provided above and beyond. I headed toward my gate feeling productive and relaxed.

When I arrived at my gate, the agent took my ticket and put it under the scanner. It beeped kinda weird and he looked at it again. He then looked up at me and said, “Congratulations, you’re now in upper class”. Um, say what? No. Way. Again? I thanked him and walked into the gate. It was extremely hot, crowded and stuffy but all I could do was marvel. For months, I had been wondering how everything would work out. I’m such a planner and I was worried what would happen in those 16 hours. I had looked at all sorts of options but none worked out. Instead, it all worked out far better than what I had imagined and BONUS, I got first class. Again. How the heck?

I knew from my time searching VA’s website before that their first class was unlike any other. I was right. The “seats” are more like your own little cubicle.

When you want to sleep, the flight attendant comes, flips the seat around and down and boom, you have an entire bed. I slept for most of the flight (thank you Ambien, for all you’ve done in my life) and was for some reason crazy nauseous throughout. I barely touched the meals they gave me and sipped gingerale throughout. Despite that, it was definitely amazing.

I still can’t believe it, really. I mean, this stuff never happens to me…and twice? However, really, God’s hands were all over this. I was checking BBC after I returned and saw that the same day that I was in London, there were crazy protests and riots. They were in all of the areas that I would have headed. I had some tests sent to me from WorldVenture right before I left the States and had been wondering when on earth I’d have the time to complete them. He gave me the perfect time and place to do so. It was also fascinating to people watch. Many people find their identity in that crazy lifestyle.

God is a God of details, as I’ve said many times and again and again, He shows it to me. I don’t deserve His love, His grace, His mercy, His forgiveness…or random blessings like a quiet relaxing place to get things done or even first class.

First Class: Part 1

I’ve been promising this blog for a year now so, at last, here you go. There was just going to be one first class blog since well, it had only happened to me once. Alas, this past trip back to Uganda, it happened again. I'm usually the person that randomly gets pooped on by a bird or randomly selected for an intrusive pat down in security instead of something good like first class. I’m going to divide them up into two blogs since each deserves it’s own blog.

I had just had a great three weeks back in the States. On the way back to Uganda, I had a long layover in Atlanta. Originally, I was going to try to hang out with my friend Jill on my long layover but she ended up not being able to come to the airport so I had lots of time to kill. I got to Atlanta and did my traditional Atlanta airport stops: get a gyro from Great Wraps and a coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. I got to my gate for my flight to Amsterdam and within a few minutes, they were announcing that they needed volunteers to take a later flight. My first thought was, “I can’t do it. I need to get back to Uganda and have no way of contacting Kate and Kacie if I don’t come on time”. But then, I wondered if it was even possible. I packed my things and headed up toward the counter to see if it was even a possibility. When I finally reached the counter, they told me that I could do it but that I’d be on the same flight the next day.

I was stuck. I had about 30 seconds to decide. I knew that I really wanted to see my friend Jill but, since I didn’t have my American cell phone, I had no way of contacting her. It was like I heard myself saying, “I’ll do it!”. I began to question that decision for the next two hours of my life. In the meantime, I discovered that the guy in front of me was also heading to Uganda. He asked the Delta worker if he could also have first class. The Delta worker told him that he could either have first class or the kick awesome voucher. He chose first class. I chose the kick awesome voucher. They gave me all of my vouchers and I was free to go.

Panic set in. WHAT had I just done!? I am a planner…and I just did something incredibly spontaneous. I walked away from the gate and went to find a place to sit down. I wanted to find free Wi-Fi so that I could get on skype and call Jill. Luckily, Jill’s cell phone number was one of the 3 or so numbers I had memorized. There was no Wi-Fi…and my panic increased. There was a guy and girl sitting across from me and I wondered if they’d even consider letting some random girl borrow their phone. I couldn’t do it….but I was desperate so I had to do it. I asked them, they agreed and I hurriedly called Jill. I’m pretty sure the conversation went a little something like this:

Jill: Hello?
Me: JILL! It’s Sarah and I’vedonethecraziesthingintheworldIjustchosealaterflightsoIaminAtlantauntiltomorrowcanyouhangout!?
Jill: Um…what? Calm down. Say that again.

I calmed myself enough to talk slower and Jill understood what I was saying. She had to figure out what was going to be best and told me to call back in 10 minutes. I said sure…not knowing what I’d do in 10 minutes. I thanked the kind boy and girl and headed out. I couldn’t ask to use their phone AGAIN so I thought I’d wander and see if there was another place that I could get free WiFi. No dice. I found some pay phones but had zero American change on me. There were these Delta workers that were trying to sell something (a Delta credit card? Don’t remember). They kept trying to get people to talk to them so when I approached them, they were clearly excited. I asked one of them if there was a phone I could use or even if I could borrow one of their cell phones. To my surprise, they said “yes!”. I was so surprised that two people at that point had agreed to let me use their cell phone. I called Jill really quick and we confirmed which stop I was to get off on the MARTA, Atlanta’s rail system. I hung up, thanked them, and headed towards the exit. I got on the MARTA (which, by the way, at night, is kind of sketchy) and got off at my stop. I wanted to call Jill again to let her know that I was there…but how? There was this girl that was dressed like an angry rocker. She was my only option. I figured if I’d already asked two others, what was the harm in one more? I timidly asked to use her phone and she responded in the most bubbly Southern voice that I’ve heard in awhile. A voice that did not match her outfit. At. All. I called Jill quick and then waited…in the freezing cold…for a long time. Jill came and we had a great time hanging out. It so happened that Jill and some of her friends were flying to New York City the next day so I would just go to the airport with them in the morning and hang out there until my flight.

The next morning while everyone else checked into their flight, I headed over to check into mine. I got my new tickets and saw that I was in row 3. Um, row THREE? This is an international flight. There is no way that can be anything but first class…right? I didn’t want to assume anything until I was in my seat taking off and in first class so I didn’t get my hopes up. I had meal vouchers from Delta as well so I grabbed breakfast at Starbucks and sat with Jill and her friends until their flight took off. Hugs all around and they were gone. I knew that I needed to occupy my entire day at the airport since my flight wasn’t until that night. I found free WiFi in a food court and settled in. I watched a lot of American TV shows that I’d missed in Uganda. I had dinner there right before my flight, wanting to get the most out of those vouchers.

I went to my gate once again and they called my section up. I didn’t know what to expect. I got on the plane and…there it was. Row 3. First class. Unreal. I put my carry ons away (I actually had to ask the guy sitting next to me to put up my one carry on since I was carrying the entire Wal-mart store in my carry on to take back). When I sat down, I was just waiting for it. I was waiting for them to come up and say, “Ma’am, there’s been a terrible mistake. You actually belong in the back of the plane.” Instead, a stewardess came up and said, “Miss Pisney, how are you tonight? Would you like anything to drink?” She then showed me the menu (oh yes, I said menu) and encouraged me to pick out whatever I’d like for dinner that night. When the plane took off, I was finally convinced that they weren’t going to move me. The food was fabulous. They gave me a down comforter blanket and pillow even though I couldn’t sleep. The guy next to me works on oil rigs throughout the world. It was fun to see his face when I was all, “Yeah, I’m a missionary in Africa…and I have no idea how I got this seat”. He also

The problem? My next flight was from Amsterdam to Uganda. I was back in Economy where I belong. But, I knew. I KNEW what was happening those rows ahead of me.

And it has spoiled me for life.

Beatrice's Story

I first met Beatrice on my first trip to Masaka. We were enrolling 10 new children into Hope Alive! that day. The new kids had come early for us to get their information, take their picture and such. There was something about Beatrice that drew me to her. Perhaps it was her ability to make the perfect fish face. I was drawn to her and we had lots of giggles throughout the day. Since she knew little English, our communication was done through either a translator or silly faces.

Right before my trip to Masaka, my former boss signed up to sponsor a child. Upon meeting Beatrice, I knew that I wanted him to sponsor her. She needed someone who would love her and I knew he and his wife would. At that point, I didn’t know how much she needed that love.

A few months ago, we were contacted by Rose, our site director in Masaka about Beatrice. When we first enrolled her, we knew that her parents were separated. She was living with her father’s mother. Her grandmother died and her father took her to live with him.

The father’s neighbors had come to Rose concerned for Beatrice. Beating children is common here, including in schools. A father beating his child would be nothing out of the ordinary. However, what was happening to little Beatrice was not ordinary. Her father would leave the house for a day or more and not leave food for her. He would beat her so severely that the neighbors began to notice. They saw that she was being starved and abused and went to talk to leader of their district about it. The leader of the district happened to be Beatrice’s grandfather, the father of her father. The grandfather said that because it was dealing with his son, he could do nothing…and nothing is what he did. The neighbors knew that they could not let this continue. Knowing that Beatrice was sponsored through Hope Alive!, they went to talk to Rose. When Rose became aware of what was happening, they took Beatrice to a doctor in order for her wounds to be documented. They contacted her mother and asked if Beatrice could stay with her instead of the father. Details then came out that her father had refused Beatrice to stay with her mother in the first place which was why she was first with his mother and then her. It was pertinent that we get her out of her current living situation and so Beatrice was moved to her mother’s house.

When I heard of what had happened to Beatrice, my heart broke. I thought of how tiny Beatrice is and how the beatings would have hurt her little body. I wondered how all of this effected how she viewed God. Since God is our Father, would she see Him like she sees her earthly father? Would she be afraid that God would hurt her like her dad did? I just wanted to hold her. To tell her that she is loved not only by me, but by God. Until then, I prayed for her. I prayed that God would do a miracle in her heart.

My friends Maria and Gloria came to do mentor training in Kampala but also in Masaka. At last, I was going to be able to go back to Masaka again and see Beatrice! I made plans with Rose for us to go out to her mother’s home to see her. Her mom lives very far away from our site in Masaka, out in the middle of the bush. I could now teach a class on Bush Driving: 101, specializing in topics such as: “What To Do When The Road Disappears”, “Avoiding Potholes: When The Road Is Just One Big Pothole” and “How To Avoid Livestock That Run In Front Of Your Vehicle”.

Beatrice’s father has been making some efforts with her and would often take her home from Saturday Club. That day, he told Rose that he wanted to come with us to her mother’s home. In ways, I was excited about his interest. In other ways, I was concerned how this would affect Beatrice. Her father guided us to their little house and without him, we would have been wandering off somewhere with pigs and goats. When I parked the car, I saw her immediately. I’m smiling just remembering. The timid smile on her small frame. Her recognition of me. The glimpses of fear in her eyes showed how she felt towards her father. When I got out of the car, we hugged for a long time. I didn’t want to let go of her and it was clear that she didn’t want to let go either. We had brought food for the family and got it out for her mom to see. It gave us time away from the rest of the family to talk about all that had gone on.

Beatrice’s mother struggles to find work. She helps different farmers around their house to make a small bit of money but it is not enough to help Beatrice and her three siblings. While Beatrice is sponsored and able to go to school, her mom doesn’t have the money to send her younger brother. The struggle of their lives is evident. The joy that comes from within her bursts from her smile. I wasn’t surprised to hear that she is a born again Christian and it encouraged me that Beatrice had a mother who followed Christ. She explained to us that she still had a rough relationship with the father. Her fear of him was also evident. My heart broke for this little family. Beatrice and I played with each other for a little longer. She can still do one of the best fish faces I’ve ever seen.

In the language of Luganda, “I love you” is “Nkwagala”. To say, “I love you very much”, you would say, “Nkwagala nyo”. I would look down and tell Beatrice:

“Nkwagala nyo nyo nyo!”

She would look up at me and say, “nyo”.

I would repeat back, “nyo”.

And we would continue for awhile adding “very” onto “I love you”.

It was hard to leave. I didn’t want to let go of her but I knew that I’d be seeing her on Saturday for the Christmas Party.

Saturday came and I knew Beatrice was there when she came and sat on my lap. It was such a great day seeing all of the kids perform in song, dance, skit, poems and more. When the day ended and I had to say goodbye to Beatrice…oh, it was hard. I wanted to cry. I wanted to just hold her and not let anything bad happen to her again. I had someone translate for me so that I could tell her that not only was she loved by me, but that she was loved by God. I waved goodbye and left her in God’s hands.

Please pray for Beatrice’s father. Pray that God does a miracle in his life and that he sees how he has hurt his family. Pray that he sees the need to change. Pray that, above all, he comes to have a relationship with Jesus Christ. Pray for Beatrice’s mom. Life is so difficult for her. Pray that she is able to find more consistent work so that she can provide for her children. Pray that she chooses to forgive her husband for what he has done to her and their children. Pray for little Beatrice. Pray that she works through the hurt and pain that she has experienced in her little life. Pray that she chooses to forgive her father. Pray that she comes to understand the great love that her Heavenly Father has for her. Pray that she chooses to have a relationship with Jesus Christ.

Me Vs. The Coral. Me - 0, Coral - 1.

The first week of October we all headed to Kenya. WorldVenture was having an East Africa Spiritual Renewal conference in Malindi and I for one was excited to be spiritually renewed. God and I had a lot to talk about and I was looking forward to the time set apart to do so.

We had planned to arrive early for the conference so that we would have a day to relax before the conference started. The tide had gone out leaving the coral exposed allowing us to be able to walk around on it. As we walked out onto the beach, a swarm of men came around us, each one wanting to show us all of the different kinds of fish in the tide pools. While they were at it, they also tried to convince us to pay lots of money and go on safaris and boat tours. I quickly realized that I had worn the wrong shoes for this, opting for my zero traction flip flops instead of my lots of traction sandals. The coral wasn’t extremely slippery but walking across it meant jumping over tide pools all on uneven ground. We left the one area of coral and headed down the beach, passing little shops selling scarves and jewelry. We saw a group of people on another part of coral and headed their way. Clearly, they were seeing something cool and we wanted to see it too.

When we joined the others, we saw that they were gathered around a starfish.

There were more Kenyan guides there wanting to show us everything. They brought us to a tide pool with a group of eels, which were creepy looking. I was glad to see them from above and not in the water. We walked on the coral from tide pool to tide pool, marveling over the unique creations of God. It was fascinating!

The guides called to us as they had spotted the illusive lionfish. The lionfish swam throughout the coral tunnels under the water with us going from tide pool to tide pool to keep up with him. I had never seen such a unique and beautiful fish in real life. I couldn’t get a good picture of him because he was so dang fast.

He had swum to another area and Hannah was able to get a good picture of him. I walked over to that tide pool, almost losing my balance at one point. Did I mention that walking on the coral was tricky and uneven, not to mention more difficult by avoiding the open tide pools? Ok, good.

I reached that tide pool and was trying to get a good picture of the lionfish before he swam away. The next thing I knew, I was sliding on the coral into the tide pool with the lionfish. Did I mention that lionfish are poisonous? Luckily, the lionfish swam away and I landed sitting on the coral with my legs in the water. Stunned, I stood up again, wondering what had happened to cause my slide. It was then that I saw that I had been scratched up in the process. My legs were apparently still in shock as the pain had yet to begin. I was feeling pretty dumb at this point.

And then the blood started.

On my first step, I realized that the fall had also broken my flip-flops. I took them off and walked gingerly on the rough coral.
Our Kenyan guides called us over wanting to show us “Nemo”. I told them that we needed to head back to the hotel to take care of my wounds. We walked carefully back over the coral until we got to the beach. I was concerned that sand would get in the scratches. My legs were stinging and my main concern was that we would have to climb a sand bank to get back up to the hotel. I managed it up the sand well and one of the hotel workers saw my wounds and guided us towards the first aid area. We waited for someone to come and I realized that my wounds were more extensive than what I first saw. Somehow, the coral scratches spiraled from my ankle all the way up my left leg. On my right leg, my calf was scratched from my ankle to my knee.

The hotel first aid guy came and unlocked the first aid box. He brought out iodine and started applying it to my wounds to clean them. Oh, that’s when the pain started. I’m not sure if you’ve ever put iodine on an open wound but suggestion, don’t. My roommate is a nurse and later stated that even in the Emergency Room, they delude the iodine, as straight iodine is too caustic. Tears filled my eyes as the cleaning continued.

It. Hurt.

The days after were filled with pain. It hurt to shower. It hurt to sit. It hurt to lay down. It hurt to do most things which cut out any future trips to the beach or swims to the pool. In ways, this was good. It forced me to have more time to focus on journaling and talking to God. It also allowed me to have good conversations with fellow missionaries there.

(this is me trying to be positive…is it working?)

Healing took awhile and even now, almost a month later, you can still see the scars. I’m hoping those eventually go away. Until then, from now on, I’ll be reealllly careful about walking on coral. You be careful too.