Chameleons, Cats, Etc.

This chameleon lives near the conference center. Everyone here is deathly afraid of them. They say if their tongue touches you, you have to cut that bit of skin off!  

This brownish chameleon was my pet for 2 days!  

I had to search around the porch to find this insect. The noise he was making was so loud it literally hurt my ears! 

The monkeys are back! This time I saw 3 babies and the mother.  

The following pictures are of our cat (singular), Oswald, who turned out to be two cats. If you missed the story, the cat would come and go every few days, sometimes be gone for longer. It turns out there are two very similar looking cats. 

 The two cats finally meet! 

Where is the cat?

Ugandan Fun

 Christine - I love her hair!

Hyder 

I asked for faces, the following 3 pictures are what I got! 

Isn't she gorgeous? 

Pencil holder 

Thanks Oswald, you have to sit right in the middle of what I'm reading! 

We're trying out a new restaurant in Kampala. 

A Ugandan Introduction - Part 2

Guest post by Heidi Angel

Continued from Part 1: Two hours later, we arrived at a small building, parked under a tree, and tumbled out into the shade. This, we soon discovered, was our chance to freshen up and wipe the dust off our faces. We also took the opportunity to relieve ourselves in the grass 15 feet away while everyone else played spectator. (Heather was unsuccessful in the battle with her bladder, but she must have sweat it all out 'cause she didn't need to go until she was back to the privacy of the Green House.) As we were milling about, Jesca nonchalantly asked if she could have some of my water; she need to take a pill as she did not want to fall ill at the Introduction. Not seeing any way around it, I handed it over. When we were all properly primped, we piled back in the van and drove a few more grueling minutes to our final destination.

Again we all tumbled out, but there was no shade this time. Instead, there was a shortish white arbor laced with baby blue ribbon, stakedd out in the middle of the driveway. They lined us up in front of it two by two, mostly males with females. We heard the music going and talking on a microphone, but the buildings were positioned such that we couldn't really tell what is going on. It slowly dawned on us that we weren't just going to walk into a living room and be introduced to her family. For a good half-hour we stood there in the blazing sun, waiting to “be invited in.” Eventually, some very cheery young teenagers came out dressed in uniforms: long black skirts/pants, white collared button-ups, a bright pink short-sleeved smock worn over the shirt, topped off with a piece of matching pink ribbon tucked neatly under their collars and secured with a piece of scotch tape. Precious. As they pinned corsages of blue curling ribbon on each of us, it suddenly it hit me that I was about to be a groomslady in a Ugandan wedding! I was last in line, Heather was three or four ahead of me on the right, and Bogere was forth or fifth on the left side. Grace was my guide of sorts - the only instructions she gave were to walk slowly, not to smile until the right time, and to kneel when they introduced us to all the different people.

I guess they finally invited us in because the processional began. As we walked past the buildings, it opened up into a courtyard where they had erected two large tents and 200-300 of her closest family were poised, waiting for us to parade in. We marched across the 'stage' to a third tent where we filed into chairs according to our positions in line, except that Bogere was 'hidden' in a back corner chair.

For the next two and half hours we were 'entertained' by two men (paid by the families to represent their side) haggling on crackly microphones over the reason why we were there. Various people were paraded on stage in front of us and on cue we'd all kneel together, crouching awkwardly in the small space in front of our chairs. Sliding out of our chairs in our satin dresses was no problem; it was getting back into them that proved a bit more challenging. All the introducing was interspersed with lip-syncing and several renditions of the Ugandan shuffle dance by endless unidentified groups of people.

All the while, Heather and I were dying. We couldn't really talk to each other because she was seated in front of me and to the side a bit. We couldn't understand a word of what was being said or sung, much less make anything of all the pageantry going on in front of us, yet we still had to sit attentively and pretend we were interested. We were under a tent but the heat was still quite intense and we hadn't eaten since 11am. Our Boy Scout list wasn't doing us any good because we had to leave it all behind in the van. Heather was hanging her head over, fighting nausea, and my head was beginning to pound. Somehow Sylvia got wind that we needed water and sent one of the guys to the car to fetch our bottles for us. When mine arrived it was promptly passed around to the rest of the wedding party (I wasn't so interested in getting the typhoid-malaria, anyway), so Heather protected hers for the two of us.

I don't think anyone knew how bad Heather was feeling when Sylvia indicated we, (she, Heather, and I) were next on stage. We were to walk to the stage, kneel down in front of the women and greet them. Then we would return to our seats. We all managed the task without any mishaps.

Around this point, I did get a bit of commentary from Grace. Two groups of aunts had been brought out, of which the first group were all fakes. In the second group, one was the real aunt. (Somewhere in the middle of all this 'aunt business,' I guess one of the cousins got hungry...sitting on the stage, one of the aunts unbuttoned her dress and plopped her18-month-old on her boob. As if this wasn't alarming enough in the middle of such pomp and circumstance, a few minutes later the child reached up with both hands and began milking her mother!) Once the real aunt was discovered, she and the fake aunts did the shuffle-dance though the wedding party 'looking' for Bogere. They danced him up to the front and seated him on the couch in front of the wedding party. Then they had to go find the bride and dance round and round with her before she was united with the groom on the couch. They were positioned in a bunch of super awkward poses with a bouquet of flowers in their laps. One of the last questions was posed to the bride: “If the rebels came tonight, which of these families should they start killing first?” Her answer was “mine,” making the statement that they were no longer hers, that she had fully transferred over to her husbands family.

By this time the tension in the air was lessening and celebration was mounting. Sodas and platters of meat had begun to be passed around to the audience, but it took a while for them to make it to us. I'd never been so happy for a strawberry soda and a hunk of liver in my life! More pageantry ensued, but I was able to be much more patient with something in my system.

Eventually, they had us shuffle-dance back through the audience and out to the van to fetch the gifts. (Side note: The ridiculous part of the shuffle-dance is that Ugandans are fantastic, creative dancers, and yet this particular dance is reminiscent of senior citizens performing the Electric Slide...). The baskets (filled with potatoes, tomatoes, bread and margarine) were distributed from the van, and they demonstrated how we were to walk with them on our heads. I was managing so long as I stood still, but I wasn't so sure the walking was going to happen, much less in front of an audience (which had grown closer to 400 over the hours of sitting there). I think I may have asked her if she was okay, but in any case, the next thing I knew, Heather was burying her face in my shoulder sobbing, “I just want to go home.” My affirmation of it all being “too much” was only met with more tears. Everybody else was quite taken off guard and didn't know what to do, but they decided the two of us could sit in the van and they would take the gifts back in, that it would all be over 'soon.'

We crawled into the van and talked things out a bit. Heather had only taken one piece of 'meat' and knowing most of her nausea at home usually subsides with food, I suggested she try to eat something. We fished the (squished) pb & j out of her purse, plopped an electrolyte tablet in a water bottle, and soon she was feeling a little better. From the moment we crawled in the van, we had the usual set of little eyeballs staring at us from all sides. A great distraction, Heather's camera came out and the usual photo shoot ensued. The children loved seeing the picture on the screen of themselves and their friends. (Meanwhile, my camera had been confiscated back at Bogere's house and somehow made it into the hands of one of the 'official' photographers. It's thanks to him that we managed to get the whole event documented despite our strict orders to take no snaps.)

About 7:30 (an hour and a half later than we'd planned to be sitting down to dinner with Patrick), they retrieved us from the car for dinner. Heather took a moment to borrow a phone to let Patrick know that we would be late coming home, a comfort to hear his voice as she'd had unusual worries of his journey to Kampala. The tents were being disassembled and the (sparkly blue hat-clad) dj was cranking it as the dusty dance floor rocked. They set us up with plates piled high, on the outskirts of all the action. The sun had gone and the cool night air set in as we dug in with our fingers to the delicious chicken, rice, beef and potatoes. Things were finally bearable, but we knew we still had a two hour drive ahead of us...

Between 8:30 and 9pm, we finally loaded into the car with a pretty obnoxious gang, a least to the ears of culture-overloaded muzungus. The songs began as we pulled out of the drive-way and intensified with every village we passed through. Impossible to find a comfortable place to let her drowsing head topple, Heather had just settled into a cozy padded spot on my lap when we hit paved road. Praise Jesus! Why hadn't we come this way if there was a route on the main road? Who knows.

We made it to Kakoge in good time and were starting to think perhaps we'd be making it home sooner than we thought. Only, once we got there they pulled off and stopped the van. We sat on the roadside for who knows how long before we finally asked what was happening. Apparently Bogere's car had dropped behind and it was not permissible for us to arrive back without the honored groom. We decided to take advantage of the dark van to get out of our satin and back into out clothes so that we would be ready for the boda ride home. We'd changed into our dresses in broad daylight in front of everyone, so we had no qualms with disrobing in a dark van packed with people.

We pulled into Bogere's driveway, met with a surge of excitement from the 100+ people waiting there to greet us. Prearranged on the ride home, Lourie was there with his boda waiting. We glided home, wearing our sweaters, welcoming the freshness of the cool night air on our faces. The clear starry sky was above us and we had a whole new understanding of the word “Introduction.”

A Ugandan Introduction - Part 1

Guest post by Heidi Angel

Dictionary.com gives six definitions of the word 'introduction' and none of them give much of any insight into what Heather and I experienced last Friday. A week before, we had been approached by Sylvia and Jesca about attending Bogere's “Introduction.” Several attempts at prodding to discover what exactly we were getting ourselves into left us with the general concept that we would be taking gifts to his fiance's house and they would introduce us to the family. We were all about an adventure, a cultural experience, supporting a staff member in this exciting life event, but we had no idea it would turn into a 14-hour nightmare that Heather would deem “a day from Hell.”

All of the arrangements had been made. Jesca had borrowed gomesis (traditional Ugandan dresses with pointy sleeves, pronounced go-MAZ) for the two of us. We were all to be dressed and ready to leave Bogere's house by 10am. It was made very clear by several individuals that this was not African time. They emphasized that we should leave Bogere's house at 10am, not our own houses at 10am. And we were told we'd be done by 4pm, so we added a buffer in our heads of 6pm, thinking we'd be back in time to do dinner with Patrick, who'd be returning from Kampala.

Ali arranged for Lourie to pick Heather and me up on the boda at the Green House at 9am. We'd gone through our Boy Scout list of what we might need for the adventure: water bottle, pb & j sandwiches, bandannas to dunk in water if the heat was unbearable, T.P., hand sanitizer, sunscreen...a sweater and a headlamp just in case the 6pm buffer was not enough. We picked up our gomesis from Jesca and scoured the house for three “strings” they told us at the last minute we would be needing to hold them up. Our Boy Scout list, along with the gomesis and strings (cut strips of fabric), were wrangled into bags we could sling over our shoulders as the two of us climbed on the back of Lourie's motorcycle about 9:30am.

After rides to various villages over the bumpy, crevassed, dirt roads in the back of Wayne's white truck, I was pleasantly surprised by the smoothness of the ride with Lourie. I was still glad that my mother wasn't there to see Heather and me bouncing bare-headed behind the helmeted driver. After about 15 minutes, a fairly slow and graceful navigation of all the ruts, Lourie delivered us to Bogere's house and our suspicions, that our 10am departure would not be happening, began.

We were the first of the girls to arrive, but as we had no clue how to clad ourselves in gomesis, we began taking photos of the village children who inevitably show up when there are muzungus around. All of the action was happening in the compound next door where they were tying together a log frame for a tent that would provide a covering for the wedding the following day. We eventually wandered over and were welcomed by a couple of familiar English-speaking faces a midst a sea of kind African matrons, busy with wrapping gift baskets, peeling sweet potatoes and preparing food, along with the group of men (one of which had troubleshooted their lack of a ladder by standing on the rear rack of a bicycle that was balanced by a trusted friend) puzzling together the structure of long skinny poles, tying them off with rope.

Introduced to several of the women, we knelt as we shook their hands and greeted them, “Waasuz Ottia.” We were returned with beaming smiles as they appreciated our attempts to show respect. Wanting to join in the action somehow, I was eyeing the women peeling potatoes around a giant pot. My wish was his command - one of our English-speaking friends had us set up with knives and secured with spots in the circle lickety-split. There was lots of laughter as the women watched the muzungus wield a knife. Not like it's something we don't do at home... Heather did get reprimanded for not shaving the potato down to a golf-ball-sized smooth whiteness, but she pushed past her training against wastefulness and the knowledge that all the vitamins are in the skin, and dug that knife down deep. They laughed at me as I missed the pot every time I tried to toss in my peeled potato, it tumbling to the dusty ground below.

It was fun to feel to camaraderie that came with joining in with such a mundane task, but along about 11am the rest of the girls had arrived by bicycle or boda and we were pulled away to eat breakfast, a generous portion of plantains topped with mystery sauce. Squeezed into the shade outside the outdoor kitchen, we visited with Jesca and she shared that she had malaria. When we inquired as to whether she'd been to the clinic, she said, “They have given me tablets. They think it is typhoid.” We are often discouraged with the quality of healthcare here...

Heather and I were both taking photos of the children and other random things, just hanging out when Jesca gave us a lecture - “When we get there you must be polite. And no snaps (pictures)!” It seemed sort of out of the blue. How are we to know what it means to be polite? So we tried to get them to tell us what being polite meant in Uganda, as Jesca herself was sitting sprawl-legged in skirt rocking back and forth on her stool. “Walk slowly slowly and do not smile. Kneel when you are supposed to kneel and do not talk. Sit up straight and do not cross your legs. No Snaps.” It was as if our grandmother was afraid ``to take us out in public.

Maybe 11:30 or so they all pulled out their compacts and lotions, picks and combs. They looked at us and urged, “Aren't you going to organize your faces? How 'bout your hair? Aren't you going to organize your hair?” Heather and I looked at each other and snickered. Like it would do much good in this heat. And where would we plug in the curling iron? What they see is what they get.

There we are, still standing in the middle of all the action when they tell us it's time to put our dresses on. With no suggestion of exactly how or where to accomplish this task I buttoned the gomesi around myself and wiggled out of my shirt beneath it. I'm sure there was some skin peeking out, but what do you do? They did some fancy accordion folding of the large flap of extra fabric on the gomesi before they tied one of the strings around my waist and covered it with the giant sash, secured by a huge knot at my front. One of the older ladies had stepped in to help tie me off, but was having trouble communicating to me how to make the dress work. She rattled something off to a man nearby and the next thing I knew, his hand was inside my dress, tugging on a piece of fabric. Well, ok then.

Shiny whales we were. Adding injury to insult, when the other girls dressed themselves, they wrapped their lower bodies in tablecloths, tied with a string and doubled back over to create a ballooning effect to “shape” their dresses. Simply put - in Uganda, they like their booty big!

The van to transport us finally arrived around noon and we piled about 19 people into its 12 seats. The majority of the female passengers were wearing their floor length satin dresses with high heels but for us, flip flops and Keens were the fashion. Who brings their high heels to the bush? And as if we weren't packed tight enough with just people, we each had a gift basket to hold in our lap.

Whew, we were all in. Finally, we could be on our way...or...we could sit in the driveway for another half-hour. The music was going and all the matrons were whoopin' and hollerin' doing the booty dance around the van. They scrimped together short pieces of tulle to tie to the van and the car Bogere was riding in, also tucking little tufts of greenery under the windshield wipers.

About 2.5 hours behind schedule, we finally departed. We soon realized that our Boy Scout list was incomplete. They all pulled out giant pieces of fabric and draped it over themselves. “Aren't you going to protect your gomesi and your hair?” Well, maybe we would have if someone had told us to bring such an item! We did the best we could to shield ourselves with our bandannas. At times we closed the windows when the dust got too bad, but we couldn't breath for long with that many people packed into a van in the hottest part of a 100+ degree day.

After maybe 20 minutes, we came to a stop, the door rolled open, and they squeezed in another passenger. Thinking that perhaps this last squeeze would only be a short distance, we asked Sylvia how much further, only to find out that “the journey had just begun.” We settled in, trying to make the most of the situation. Loud whooping and hollering erupted every time we bounced through the tiniest village. In between, though, we were driving through the bush. Literally, branches screeching across both sides of the van as we plowed down 3-ft-high grass in the middle of the road, dodging goats and cows along the way, doing a little rock of the clutch to get the weight of the van up and over the humps. Let's just say that I was closing my eyes trying to think happy thoughts about my stomach, so I can't imagine what the little bean was telling Heather as it swam around in hers.

to be continued...

The New Apprentices

As promised, it’s time to introduce the new students of AHI. First though I want to express how impossible selecting these students has been for all of us. At one point while Sylvia, Jesca, Ali and I were looking over the applications, Sylvia literally pushed the papers at me and shouted in frustration “You decide, it is too hard!” And it was indeed over much meditation, prayer and lively discussion that we selected our students. The original plan was to select only six students for this class because we plan to take in a new group annually now, requiring that we reduce class sizes by about half. However, the decision was so hard that we soon found ourselves finding excuses and “good reasons” to take eight in this first class instead, and having now met all of the students I am quite pleased with that decision. I even found myself almost wishing in those last interviews for bad applicants so our decisions would not get any tougher (it did anyways). After all of the interviews, the names of the final eight continued to rotate for several days - it truly was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make.

With this new class there are many changes coming to AHI and in many ways this first class is testing out a whole new way of doing school here. I have been very proud of the staff these first two days as they have really stepped up into a higher level of teaching and some, like Ali, who did not start as a teacher with the last class, beam with anticipation for the training ahead. One notable change is the title of the students has changed to Apprentices. It will take some time to adjust to the title swap but it a more apt description of the role they are given and the hands-on practical training that is the defining change with the new AHI curriculum. As the “Apprentices” have only been here two days, the information I can share on them may be brief, but I know you are all eager to meet them so I won’t delay the introductions any further.

Ajibo Agnes

Agnes is one of the two students we took from East Uganda, near Soroti. Her mother actually manages a local hotel there and Agnes perhaps shows the most enthusiasm for learning everything she can about the hospitality industry specifically.

Namatowu Agnes

No, you’re not confused, former student “Mumpi” Caroline is not repeating school - this is an all new Mumpi, Caroline’s year older sister Agnes. I was super excited during the interview by her bright smile and enthusiasm and thought her a clear pick for the school, it wasn’t until later that William asked her if she was related to Caroline and suddenly the connection was made. Still, I was glad that God somehow kept that bit of information hidden from me at first so I could be sure we were not selecting her based on her relatives but her own positive attitude and ability. None the less, two days into school and she has already gained the Mumpi title.

Kabeikiriza Beatrice

After every interview we would have a discussion about and then rate the applicant. We assigned numbers between 1 and 5, with a 5 being someone who could feasibly be hired on immediately as staff. William in his first interview gave the person a 5 until I told him a 5 would have to be as talented as himself… he quickly dropped the rating to 4. However, after Beatrice’s interview she got a unanimous perfect 5 rating from everyone who interviewed her including myself. It will be exciting to see how students like Beatrice can raise the overall level of AHI in the coming years. Beatrice is also from Masindi (where Christine from the last class and Peter, our driver, are from) adding to the growing geographic diversity of AHI.

Atayo Catherine

For some students like Beatrice the facts seem to make the choice obvious, for others the Holy Spirit seemed to lead instead. Catherine had a great interview but she also has seen a lot of abuse and destructive people in her past. She is a teen mother and when the baby was born a cesarean was performed. There is a real lack of knowledge about medicine in Uganda and a few of the staff ignorantly argued against her because they were concerned “her guts will spill out” while she is working. However, her brother had graciously offered to take care of her child while she was in school, and we saw in her a real hunger and desire to learn and improve herself. She has a deep kindness and gentleness that has somehow survived despite her past and so God has brought her to AHI. Catherine is also the second student from Eastern Uganda, truly leaving everything she knows in an effort for a better life.

Nakanyike Justine

Justine was the very first applicant we interviewed, a dangerous place to go because we had nothing to compare her with. Nonetheless, she kept shifting on and off the pile of the accepted. Then Sylvia shared an important piece of information, that Justine had applied with the last class two years ago and been turned down for being too young. The fact that she had returned two years later, and had signed up in the very first timeslot for interviews, showed us everything we needed to see about her desire to be here. She is excited to learn and also helps represent the local area, being from the same district as AHI and many of the staff.

Namubiru Resty

Resty is our miracle student. She actually was not selected as one of the eight and was placed in the “waiting list” pile for future classes. She was so distraught by not being selected that she paid for a boda to come up to the ranch and plead with Maggie to allow her to attend. Maggie had the tough role of having to turn her away, even in tears, telling her she was sorry but the selection was made. When Maggie told me what had happened, I told Maggie, “Resty was number nine, if we could have taken one more student Resty would have been it.” Well, on the first day of school one student didn’t arrive and when we called to find what had happened, the missing student’s mother reported that she had changed her mind. The next phone call we made was to Resty, and within a couple of hours she was in class praising God. This was comforting for me as well, to show that God is sovereign and that He had clearly chosen the students and there was nothing we as humans could do to avert His almighty will. Resty comes from Luwero, the major town between the Ranch and Kampala.

Nyakaisiki Roseline

Roseline is in for the biggest culture shock living in the bush, having come from the big city of Kampala. She is super smart, with great English, but what really sold me on Roseline is what you witness in the picture above… her smile. Many of the applicants looked down, never made eye contact, and certainly never smiled. Many of them were very nervous with a Mzungu at the table, but Roseline never missed a beat, smiling and answering the questions with poise. She’s another student who I think is going to raise the professional level of AHI in the coming years.

Lumala Yusufu

Poor Yusufu, he didn’t sign up to be the only male in the bunch. Sadly we had only 3 men apply this year (something we hope to focus on in future recruiting) and Yusufu is the only one who made the cut. However, what a great applicant he was, and there was never any doubt of him being chosen. Yusufu is one of the brightest students we have ever had and he is already showing great promise, always speaking loudly (no small thing for a new student) and asking lots of questions. It’s clear he is eager to learn and willing to work hard to accomplish his goals. Yusufu also adds religious diversity to AHI being a professing Muslim, but understands AHI is a Christian organization and is willingly joining us in fellowships and as we study scripture. He also comes from Nakasongola and so represents AHI’s back yard and how we as an organization are working to have an impact right here in the heart of Uganda.

So there you are - Class 2013 of African Hospitality Institute. It’s been fun watching the new apprentices’ brains explode with all the new information and experiences; as though they had never in their wildest dreams imagined there could be so many different kinds of baking tins. Two days in, classes are going great, and it’s making the idea of leaving in March harder to deal with. You can pray with us as we prepare for that transition and that we would trust God to be sovereign over AHI and especially the new students. If these first few days are any indication, AHI has a bright future ahead bringing glory to God!

Video Tour

In which Patrick gives a video tour of AHI.  You have little idea of how tedious this was to upload at 28kb/s!

Enjoy!

Part I


Part II

State of the Mission Part 3

So far we have covered the mission work we have done with AHI as well as with Pastor training; but there are many other settings where God is at work here. One particular is the Leadership School here on the Ranch. Cornerstone Leadership Academy (CLA) is a Senior Secondary or A level (Advanced) school that takes the brightest students representing different regions across Uganda. It covers what might be the American equivalent of 11th & 12th grade as well as a community college rolled into one. CLA was begun more than two decades ago with the idea that training up the future leaders of Uganda in a cross-tribal environment would help to build a more united country and help to prevent future discriminatory genocides like Uganda saw under Idi Amin (and more recently in Rwanda, Kenya and Southern Sudan). There are two schools in Uganda, one closer to Kampala for girls, and one here on the ranch for boys. From the first week we arrived, Heather and I have enjoyed being engaged at CLA - in some ways, because the common language spoken at CLA is English, it can be even easier to build relationships with their students. I have also built a strong bond of friendship with the Headmaster, Pastor Ayo, and the Deputy Headmaster Kenneth, both of whom I deeply love and have really enjoyed getting to know. Pastor Ayo in particular lived through the Idi Amin years and can recall some intense events.

In addition to just spending time with the staff and students at CLA I have been given the opportunity, as I am free, to teach discipleship classes at the school. I have thoroughly enjoyed teaching on Stewardship, Integrity, The Church, and a variety of other exciting topics. Just as with Pastor training, I use scripture as our textbook as we dive in together as a class to understand what the Bible has to say on these things (for example, we compared Job 1:8 & 2:3 and noted that Job gains integrity). In addition, I have been teaching a practical computer class using a fabulous curriculum written by John & Amanda Bull wrote for CLA while they were here in Uganda for a year (before us with a couple months overlap).

The most exciting opportunity at Cornerstone has been the genesis of a local newspaper written and designed by CLA students. This is another great example of some people in the States getting on mission with us rather than simply taking a passive role. It started when a CLA student mentioned to me that he was hoping to one day be a reporter for a local newspaper. With my own journalism background I started asking him questions about his interest and quickly came to realize he had little to no opportunity to practice and thus gain the skills needed make that dream a reality.

A few weeks wrestling with that thought, and the idea of a Student Newspaper came to my mind. I learned so much working on a student newspaper and most every high school in America has its own paper - why couldn’t one of the premiere secondary schools in Uganda have one as well? I talked to Eric Kreuter from Cornerstone about the idea and he was surprisingly supportive noting that the paper should not just cover Cornerstone, but the entire Ekitangaala Ranch community. That fit quite nicely in with our desire to build community out here, so suddenly this crazy idea was looking more realistic and also in alignment with our mission! I began communicating with several old writing friends and mentors on the East Coast, who were equally excited about the prospect of financially supporting the project. The real surprise came when I found out there was already an underground writer’s club meeting at the school that currently had their articles tucked away in a folder, forgotten forever.

It was around this time that Dan and Celeste Gracey also confirmed that they would be coming out to Uganda to visit with us. Celeste is a graduate from the Journalism department at UW and works for a local paper on the Eastside, but most importantly she has a real passion for living out a Christian life while using her talents in the field of Journalism. This really couldn’t get any better - it just had to be a God timing thing, so I wrote Celeste about the newspaper idea and she totally took it up and got on mission. Dan and Celeste worked hard to raise support to purchase two good laptops, pendrives and a digital camera for the newspaper. They also used their contacts to get donations both from Microsoft and Adobe for software to make this paper a reality.

Despite all of these material contributions, Celeste’s greatest contribution was teaching classes at Cornerstone about the importance of ethical Journalism and the impact these students could have as leaders if they became Journalists. It climaxed with a meeting of the student staff of the new newspaper (the core formed by the writer’s club) where they decided on a title for the paper (The Ranch Times), divvied up beats around the ranch, and listened carefully as Celeste taught on the basics of article writing (inverted pyramid).

Since that time we have been meeting weekly, working on the premiere issue of the Ranch Times. We originally planned to publish in 2011 but unfortunately we got started a bit late and studying for final exams needed to take precedence (this was a decision I made, I’m sure had I asked, the students would have worked hard to try and reach the deadline). Nonetheless, most of the articles have been completed for the first issue and Celeste has continued to support the paper with templates and materials to help the paper start off on the right foot. Our hope is to release the first issue in early March (the students have been gone December-January for their equivalent of a summer break). Most important is equipping the students with the basic skills they will need to publish papers every other month, before Heather and I depart.

In addition to Cornerstone, there has been other mission work outside of AHI that Heather and I have been involved in. Heather started a woman’s prayer group that meets in the primary school weekly and despite Heather’s absence for several weeks (with visitors and such)the prayer has continued strong. In the midst of that Heather has also built a strong friendship with Jovia, the Headmistress of the Primary School, and that friendship has been a real blessing helping to support Heather when things got lonely. With the backing of AHI and Maggie we have also hosted multiple Community Leadership meetings – gathering the headmasters of all the local schools and other mission leaders to study scripture, share a meal, and come together as a united community under the headship of Christ.

Finally, the internet tree where we can gain our most reliable net connection is located at the local secondary school (not CLA) which has, in a positive way, forced us to build friendships with many of the more curious secondary students. Of course not all of these conversations are fruitful (see Heather’s previous posts) but many are and sometimes I think the internet tree is God’s way of keeping us connected with that part of the Ranch community. I’m sure there are dozens of other little projects and ministries I’m not listing (local bible schools and a fun networking project come to mind) but the point is, God is working and He keeps enabling us to join in His work. The truth is it’s a lot of fun - in fact the hardest times here are when things are quiet. That’s when the solitude of being in the bush can really get to us, which may be why we continue to find projects we can get involved with.

The first bit of news we have to share you may have already heard on Facebook but I would be remiss not to mention it. Heather is pregnant and we are super excited at the prospect of this next stage of our life! We’re not the only ones excited either; it seems like the entire community is talking, and as Lillian said, “I have been praying every night that you would have a baby and God answered my prayers.” Most intriguing, with all of the death, diseases, and risks, pregnancy isn’t talked about much here by the nationals, and yet culture seems to have been thrown out the window in Heather’s case because the whole ranch is very eager to talk about “The Bean.”

"join us in our prayers as we investigate a possible second year here in Uganda"

Second, you can join us in our prayers as we investigate a possible second year here in Uganda. Obviously the obstacles for returning with a baby are greater, and we need to be called by God to be on mission, but it is quite attractive to finish what we have begun here with projects like the new school curriculum and as just mentioned, the CLA newspaper. What we learned on the first trip is that if it is God’s will he will make it happen, so we are trusting Him. In the meantime we have committed to at least renovating a former staff building into a new mission house here for AHI. Currently we stay in the Green House, which is technically owned by ACM, so our hope is to build a house specifically for long term volunteers working here with AHI. This falls right into line with our original call and mission which was to be the first of many who would come here to support Maggie in Uganda - so I am asking that you begin prayerfully considering if you want to partner with us on this new project.

Finally a smaller but no less important project that Heather and I are interested in raising some funds for is to paint the staff housing here. Currently all of the housing for the staff of AHI is painted a plain white with no differentiation between each individual home (they are like small townhomes) and we would love to add a small bit of color to both brighten up the houses and create a dividing line between each individual unit. We also feel it would be a great way to show love towards the staff with something that’s more “fun” and aesthetic, rather than functional. The total cost for such a project would be around 2,000,000 shillings ($800). Heather and I can’t fund this project alone, so we are looking for anyone who would be interested in joining us to help, as a sort of farewell gift from all of us (you included) to the staff that we have struggled alongside and grown to love. Let us know if you’re interested in adding a little color to Uganda!

"as I look back I have NO IDEA how we were able to accomplish these things, and so the only answer can be the empowering of the Holy Spirit and the work of God"

I think this basically completes the “State of the Mission” series and I hope you have enjoyed seeing how God has been working in amazing ways here. I really do want to give the glory to Him, not because that’s the church answer of what you’re supposed to say, but because as I look back I have NO IDEA how we were able to accomplish these things, and so the only answer can be the empowering of the Holy Spirit and the work of God. We are excited to be coming home soon and to share these things with you in person. We have been so blessed to have a community like you who was willing to go on mission with us and we love and appreciate you all! Don’t miss next week when we introduce you to the exciting new students… now aptly titled apprentices here at AHI!

-PHD