ahhh...uganda day 2

Wow Life is happening so fast i don't even have time to record everything!

Before i recap Uganda day 2, everyone please know i'm safe and protected and everythign is fine. Elections happened here. They were peaceful and beautiful from what i hear (I was in Uganda on day 3). Until Wednesday night. There was grenade attack in town where several people at a bus stop were injured. Final numbers have not been released yet. I was about 30 yards from the attack but inside a building and didn't hear or know about any of it. Luckily, my friends were looking out fo rme, called me, and told me to go home right away. I was obviously distraught but a guardian angel apporoached me, and, in french, asked me what i needed and how she could help. She got me a moto taxi, explained to the driver where i needed to go, and sent me on my way. She smoothly transitioned me from a panic stricken crazy situation to the safety of home. I'm so grateful for the french guardian angel lady and that once again God saw it in his wisdom to teach me french. Please pray for those affected by the terrible and vicious stupidity of others.

Ok Uganda day 2.

Church. I went to a little church that meets in an old house. There is a keyboard but no one to play it. Instead we sing off key occapella with all the ferver of the pioneers. These people really sing with joy. and the man conducting the music, who didn't actually know how to conduct (or even sing for that matter) was just waving his arms around and smiling with his whole face and practically shouting hosanna with his heart. It was beautiful to watch. But no pictures in church so you'll have to imagine him!

Then sunday school taught by a 17 year old. And he was soo Good! We sat the garage of the old house with no windows and folding chairs. We had our back to the sun and our hearts to an old chalk board proped up against the wall. And then the class for the women - what we mormons called Relief Society. And we had a talk about Faith in Christ. And noone knows faith in Christ like an african woman. They don't just believe it. They are it. They are a walking testimony of the power of Faith. how else could you live with the burden of being an African women caught inbetween the past and the future. Loving your children but hating the possibilities denied to you becuase of your gender. And for some reason they thought i had somethign meaningful to say and asked me to speak. So i shared about the power of dreams and the committment of our Heavely Father to the happiness of his children. And that the universal language that unites us all is the love of God. And it seems the message was for me and not for these beautiful women. It was a testimony to my own ears that my heart was sharing with me.

After church a lengthy and bumpy car ride to the place where my life changed. We went to see Godfrey's mom who runs a boarding house for 150 boys that are attending school. As we pull up, a small boy in a red shirt, walks up to me and puts his hand in mine. And the stars alingned and the heavens shifted and my world moved to orbit this child.

His name is Owen. He is 5. He's had a terrible story and the burn marks on his arm to prove it. But he has the most beautiful smile, and face, and soul, and everything. And he is now part of me. And will be coming home with me soon.

Illogical? Yes! Difficult? Hell yes. Detered? Not in the least.

Thenwe drove to another villiage to meet Godfrey's grandma. She wasn't there but we found several other beautiful children running barefoot through their front yard. And woman making dinner in banana leaves. But not for us becuase we were eating at Godfrey's sister's house. Spagetti and mashed potatos and this awesome salsa thing. DELICIOUS!!!

During our driving around in the villiages and staring into the face of so many children, I felt their eyes begging me why i was born in the land of limitless future and they were born to play in a trash heap. And I had no answer for them. No response.

What can a middle class white girl (who spends an entire villiage's salary on one semester of universsity) say to these children begging me for future? What can this middle class white girl say to herself when her heart is breaking for the children of africa?

I know i'm not the first to travel those bumpy ungandan village roads. and i know i'm not the first to morn for the limited future of the trash pile children. But for that Sunday night car ride i felt like i was moving through a simulated reality. I was driving back to my $40 hotel room and my limitless options, and my wide open future - and leaving behind red dirt and beans for dinner, and barefooted trashpile entertainment. And I could feel my heart breaking as I watched the sun set on the villiage.

I moved as rapidly as i could muster a response to the "evening welcome home sista" to the security guard, secure my hotel key, and make it to my room. And then the african emotional tsunami hit. And i could feel the injustice and unfairness of the russian rullet of life cresting inside of my body like a boiled over pot of ramen noodles. And the total helplessness of knowing that i left those children in the villiage, and my meager resoucres could not take them all to my nashville cottage, and that giving them american might not even change anything, left me totally drained on the bathroom floor.

Even sitting on the toilet while taking a shower did not help my heart as it would in any other circumstance.

And all I could think is "why do i have a future and they don't?" all those babies. all that need. what can i actually do here? but maybe they don't want the future that I had. maybe they like the villiage. maybe i should stop projecting my own american guilt onto their simple and happy life.

Maybe i should jsut sit on the toilet and wash my hair.

And wonder how Africa incited so much emotion in me that my nose actually started bleeding.

Which is a first.

Blessings,

Shai