Turning paper and prayers into paychecks

It all began with a call to action in 2014.

Nakiito Carolane, the first graduate from the Women’s Empowerment program says Wilson Hannington Kabeera, founder and executive director of Empower A Child (EAC), called all the women in the area and from nearby villages to the EAC compound in the village. He said they wanted to teach them more about how to develop themselves and how to be successful.

EAC brought sewing machines, beads, and other small business items and allowed the 84 women who showed up to the initial meeting to select what they wanted to do and what they felt that they could do.

All the women were also given six months of intense training on how to handcraft the paper beads for jewelry that would be their initial sources of income. 

In those first six months, the number of women dwindled from 84 women to just nine.

Most women quit the program because they were wanting instant results and quick money, but EAC was teaching and training the women on hard work, perseverance, and how to save money. 

The nine who stuck with the program were the ones who really desired a lifestyle change.

“By employing and empowering the women in the village of Zirobwe, Uganda, it gives women the chance to recognize their passions, chase their dreams, and achieve their goals. Upon entering our program, each woman has the opportunity to help construct their own business plan, individually tailored to help her transform her dreams into reality,” states EAC’s Women’s Empowerment website.

                                                                                                                        

One of those women who have been able to transform her dreams into a reality is Nakiito Carolane, the first graduate of the Women’s Empowerment program.

Twenty-eight-year-old Carolane walks the almost two mile dusty and windy road from her house to her new shop every day. Before opening her own shop just over a year ago, Carolane worked as a farmer and had a lot of uncertainty in her life.

If the weather was bad or the crops didn’t flourish like she had hoped, Carolane would not only have insufficient products to sell, but she was also unable to provide food from her harvest for her husband and six children.

Seeking a more consistent and reliable lifestyle, Carolane began attending the meetings hosted by the Women’s Empowerment department and learned the craft of constructing the paper beads and combining them into necklaces.

The women are paid upfront for the products they make, sharing the money equally amongst those enrolled in the program. The money would be put into a savings account for each woman, so that, when they graduated, they had enough saved up to open their own business or pursue the dream that they identified when they began the program.

After two years of hard work and determination, Carolane graduated from the Women’s Empowerment program and received all the money that they had put into the savings account for her.

 She was able to combine that money with the income from her agricultural work and purchase the necessary supplies and space to open her own shop, specializing in farming and agriculture products.

“I am so happy because Empower put in us that urge to work for ourselves,” Carolane said. “I always had the desire, but there wasn’t any way for me to start doing it before.”

After learning the beading side of the program, Carolane also wanted to learn how to operate the foot-pedal-powered sewing machine to tailor clothes for others. Since learning the art of tailoring, Carolane is also able to earn extra income throughout the year, by sewing items such as school uniforms for the children before each term begins.

Because of the skills and knowledge Carolane has obtained from the Women’s Empowerment program, she no longer has to live shilling to shilling and scrape by to meet her family’s needs between harvest seasons. 

In fact, Carolane has even been able to save some of her income every week and is still able to maintain a savings account on her own.

Carolane has used to the skills and knowledge she received to continuously be thinking about her next business venture. Recently, she and a friend went together to purchase a pool table to put in front of her shop space, right off the main road into town. People from the community come to her shop and pay her to play pool on her table, generating even more income for her and her friend’s families.

“Do you have any other questions?” Carolane asks as we begin to leave her shop. “I want to make sure you leave this place contented on how the Women’s Empowerment program has realy impacted me. I’m so happy having you here to hear about my story and how my life is now!”

The Women’s Empowerment program ignited a spark in Carolane. She desires to learn more and that does not seem to be extinguishable flame now that it has caught fire.

Carolane expressed a desire to learn how to balance the books herself for the shop and asked for advise on how to draw more customers into her shop and make it more profitable.

Nakiito Carolane has been empowered.

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                         

“I’m so happy seeing you here,” Karerena Margret says, as we walk into her shop. “I am so glad I now have a shop for you to visit!”

Margret, one of 24 children in her family, is only 26 years old, but is already running her own business: a full-service salon that also sells products.

Before joining the Women’s Empowerment program, Margret lived with her mother in another village and felt like she was a burden for her mother to take care of. Margret walked to the Empower A Child Community Church regularly to worship and fellowship.

It was there that she met Igambi Sandra, an Empower A Child staff member living in the village, who encouraged her to join the Women’s Empowerment program.

“I thank God, because from the time I joined Women’s Empowerment, I have been doing well,” Margret said, burying her head in her hands to hold back her tears. “I am no longer worried like I used to be. I know where my future is going now. I didn’t have a job or any hope when I was living with my mom. I thank God because my life has changed now.”

No longer able to keep the tears from falling, Margret pauses for a few minutes and sobs quietly into her chitange (a printed cloth often used to wrap around yourself when working). 

After apologizing, she continues:

“I have gotten many things from Women’s Empowerment. The hardships I was going through are now relieved. I now feel joy. Through Women’s Empowerment, I am able to take care of my siblings who are studying at school. My siblings now also have hope. They thought they would have to drop out of school, like I had to drop out of school. But now, I can pay their school fees and let them study.”

The income she earns from her salon provides financial stability for her entire family. 

She puts some away in her savings accounts, she pays off her personal expenses for the shop. She pays all of the school fees for four of her younger siblings. She no longer depends on her mother to take care of her, but instead helps her mother with her needs.

“The tears I am shedding now is because of my joy,” Margret says with tears running down her face, but a smile stretched from ear to ear. “I wouldn’t have money if it wasn’t for Women’s Empowerment. I can now take care of my mother; whatever she needs, I can provide. But what makes me so happy is that my siblings are in school.”

Through the Women’s Empowerment program, Margret says she was able to learn hard work and was able to receive a lot of knowledge she wouldn’t have had access to otherwise.

“Thank you to Empower a Child for feeling that heart for the women in Zirobwe to come and help us,” Margret says as we stand to pray for her before leaving her shop. “Before, we never had the hope. Now, we have hope.”

Margret is saving her money and wants to use her next money to pursue her ultimate dream of becoming an interior decorator.

While she currently rents a house that she shares with two of her younger siblings, she has also been able to use her money to buy a small plot of land. She will soon begin building a house of her own on that land and beginning a life of complete dependency.

Karerena Margret has been empowered.

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                         

Every day, testimonies similar to Carolane and Margret are being told in the villages surrounding Zirobwe. So far, I have only had the chance to listen personally to those two stories, but I am waiting with eager anticipation to hear more testimonies in the coming weeks.

They are testimonies of lives changed, women empowered, and where a culture of over-spending and poverty is slowly turning to a culture of saving and business-savvy women providing for their families.

Empower a Child’s Women’s Empowerment program is changing the lives of these women- one paper bead, one necklace, one shop at a time. 

“Cassie-- wake up!”

I jump out of bed, now startled wide awake and throw on some clothes, before looking at the time.

“Who in the world wants me at 3 a.m.?” I think.

I open my door and walk outside to a completely dark sky and utter silence.

There’s no one there.

Usually, I hear God speak to me in thoughts or emotions that cannot possibly be my own or in reassurances and promises. It wasn’t until Tuesday morning when I heard what I am almost certain was an audible voice.

It wasn’t a quiet whispering in my spirit or a resounding word in my head, I awoke with confidence that there was someone outside my room beckoning me to come outside with them.

Unable to fall back asleep, I went and sat in my favorite spot. Every morning, I sit on the veranda of the clinic that faces the village to simply just watch life happen in the village. 

Instead of the joy I usually felt white sitting there, I kept thinking, “Why am I awake?!”

Honestly, I was angry about it. We had a long day on Monday and arrived to the village late that night. I knew Tuesday was going to be a long day because I would be participating in a 12+ hour field trip with 60 kids from Empowered Leader’s Academy, walking all day in the hot sun and not eating enough or consuming enough water. I knew it was going to be an exhausting day, so I had already determined to sleep in as late as possible to ensure I had enough sleep and energy.

But, here I am, wide awake after just four hours of sleep.

As I sat and stewed in my unhappiness about my current situation, I felt God tell me- this time in the still, small voice of my spirit-

“Look around and get ready. I’m about to do something big in your life. Are you listening to what other people have been telling you? I’ve already begun speaking to you through them.”

Then, Isaiah 43 was brought to my mind.

After reading the entire chapter a few times, verses 18-19 stood out.

“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

The Jews were so bound by their current unhappiness and circumstances, that they couldn’t see the promises and future that God had for them. 

God has given me huge promises and revelations about my future, but I keep losing sight of them because of my current situations. I keep trying to limit myself and logically reason out of things I am feeling because, it doesn’t seem like it is possible.

God has shown me two very big pieces that fit into my life puzzle this past week, beginning on Tuesday when I was able to just sit with him and listen.

Now, I just have to continue to sit with them for a while, process them fully and see what that means for my future, and tell my family and loved ones all about it.

Then, I will return to write about them here.

Hopefully, before I head back to the village, I will have at least one more blog that narrates the stories of two of the women in the Women’s Empowerment program that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this past week.

But, all this was to say, God is doing something big with me in regards to Uganda, and the village, in particular. So, I’m asking for your prayers.

Pray for clear direction and guidance.

Pray for an open and attentive spirit.

Pray for provision and open doors.

Pray for words to come easily.

Pray for peace and acceptance, no matter what happens.

Also, I hope this can serve as a reminder to someone who needs to hear it today:

God has something to say to you or show you; make sure you’re listening and not so distracted by the little stuff, that you miss it all together. 

Musumba's mukisa (Pastor's blessing)

I first met Musumba (Pastor) Paul in 2012, although, at the time, he was not a pastor.

He was actually the security guard at Empower A Child’s Kampala base. Every time that I left or returned to the compound, I passed him at the gate and he always greeted me with a “Hello!” or “Goodbye!”

Unfortunately, that was about the extent of his English at that time and my Luganda was almost non-existent.

But that didn’t stop us from trying to communicate further.
In mostly pictures, pointing, sign language, broken phrases and butchered words in the others’ native language, we did our best to carry on conversations every day.

One day, I was walking out of the compound, and he surprised me when he clearly said “Are you going to Tusky’s?” (Tusky’s is the local supermarket just a street over that I was often going to when I headed out on foot.) I quickly turned around and, I’m sure with my mouth hanging open, I said, “Yes, I am!” A little less clearly, he said, “I learning English to talk you.”

 Suddenly, the floodgates of communications were broken wide open for the two of us.

 I spent many hours near that gate, talking with Paul. 

Mumba Paul with his pastoral study material in 2014

Whenever I left for Tusky’s, I always asked Paul if he wanted anything since he was restricted to the grounds of the compound for 12 hour days.
(Being around and attentive is something you value a lot in a security guard/gate keeper and Paul was very serious about getting there early and staying right there until his shift was finished.)

Paul always declined; “Everything I need, God has given me.”
If my six months here, he never asked for a thing, even when I offered.
That didn’t stop me from buying him the occasional chapatti or Stoney, when I bought one for myself, and I would thank him for his hard work.

His response was always the same when I gave him something, no matter how big or small: deep, heart-felt gratitude.

Paul is one of the most humble people I’ve ever had the opportunity to meet.
 One day, while we were talking, Paul stood and said, “Let me come!” (Usually in Uganda, that means the person needs to do something before coming back to you.)

 He ran through the door of the metal guard station and came back with a small copy of a Gideon’s New Testament bible. He wanted to read me some of his favorite parts he had read.

 For over an hour, I listened as Paul read his favorite bible stories and verses to me, amazed at how quickly he was learning and understanding English and how much he lit up when he read from his bible.

The next day, when I went to Tusky’s (I have a slight addiction to going there when I’m in the city…), I was looking at the books and trying to find a new bible, since I had given mine to someone in the village earlier that week.

I felt led to also buy Paul a new one.

 When I gave it to him, he fell to his knees and thanked me over and over again for the longest time.
Paul said he had been praying for a new bible and he knew that God answered his prayer.

 Paul is a man filled with faith.
Every time we passed through that gate, from that day forward, you would see Paul sitting in the chair reading his bible and smiling.

 Paul is a man filled with joy.

On Sundays, as we left for church in the village, he waved from gate until I couldn’t see him any longer; he always looked sad to see us leaving.

One Sunday, I asked him if he went to church. He said the hours of his job did not allow him the time to go.
I began my petitioning to allow him come with us on Sunday mornings.

 I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to convince an organization to release the person who is supposed to be monitoring, securing, and protecting a compound for basically an entire day, but it’s not exactly something they are thrilled with doing. In the end, however, they agreed.

 The next Sunday, as Paul was opening the gate and began waving to us, I told him to get in the van because he was coming with us. He smiled, ran inside the guard station, grabbed his bible, and squished into the van.

 Paul came to church with us every Sunday after that.
He immediately got plugged in with the worship team and built relationships with community members.



In October, I had to leave Uganda to prepare to go to the next mission field God was calling me to- The World Race.

I knew it would be at least 18 months before I was able to return, since I was going to be in other countries.

My dad, however, had the opportunity to visit in October, only a year after I left.
When he was telling me about his trip, he mentioned a new pastor at the community church and showed me a picture.

 I immediately recognized him; it was Paul!

In less than a year, this man went from his job as a gate keeper for Empower A Child to the strong, spirit-led pastor of Empower A Child’s Community Church!

He is a walking testimony that God has bigger plans for your life than you can even begin to imagine!

Being back in the village and ministering side-by-side, there has been one thing that I have noticed this year: he doesn’t have a house to call his own.

During the time, such as now, when there are less volunteers needing the rooms in the village, Musumba Paul, Madame Sissy, and their almost two-year-old daughter, Tindo, occupy one of the rooms in Empower’s A Child’s guesthouse. (Yes, you read that correctly. The family of three, with another baby on the way, all live in one single room, most likely smaller than the room you call your bedroom.)

The room that the family occupies when there is space for them

The only problem with that is, in the summer and when large groups come, every bed in every room is needed to accommodate the volunteers and Musumba’s family has to vacate the room. They pack up the entirety of their belongings and stay with his brother, Joshua, and his wife and their kids in their small, two-bedroom house.

Recently, Musumba was able to purchase some land in the village, in the hopes that he will one day be able to build a house on it, knowing that his pastoral salary combined with Madame’s teacher salary will logically not be enough to be able to do so.

As he was praying over the land and asking God to provide and make a way where there seemed to be no way, his neighbor approached him and expressed her desire to move back to where her family is.

She offered to sell him her entire, completed two-bedroom house and the land it is built upon for $5,000.

To build a house of that size and to the quality and finish as this house would cost at least double that amount to build from the ground up, and that’s not including the land it is built upon.

If he is able to purchase this house and the land, he would then be able to use the land he already purchased for his garden and, someday, maybe even a shop to generate more of a reliable income for the family. 

Musumba is praying for God to make himself very evident in this situation, since it is something he knows he cannot do in his own will or strength. I’ve felt led to rally alongside him and partner with him in prayer and intercession. 

Musumba Paul hasn’t asked me for a single shilling, he never will, and he has not asked me to ask others, because, like I mentioned earlier, he asks God and has faith that God will provide however He desires.

With my experience of support raising for numerous trips over the years, I know that God loves to use his people, and especially those whom he has blessed with finances, to bless others and to obtain amounts that you thought previously impossible.

It seems like a large amount to raise, but when you put it into the perspective that this amount will provide a consistent, permanent house for a growing family of at least four, suddenly that amount pales in comparison to what we spend on our houses.

To provide Musumba and his family with a home to call their own, would be an incredible blessing. 

I’ve set up a new GoFundMe page to channel all the incoming funds into to keep them all in one place, but also to allow others to track the progress of the crowdfunding.

Sweet little Tindo

I have so blessed by Musumba Paul over the years and this year, I have also been blessed by his wife and daughter, as I have the chance to see and talk with them every day we are in the village.

They are a hard-working family. Musumba is always working for or around the church and community. Madame Sissy works with 38 children in Empowered Leaders Academy’s Middle Class every day (ages 3-6), even though she is almost eight months pregnant and is usually also toting Tindo on her back.

Mumba Paul and Madame Sissy's wedding three years ago

At the end of the long day, this family needs a place to call their own and to rest within.

Will you join me in providing “Musumba’s mukisa”— a blessing for Pastor?

Please, join me in praying and interceding for Musumba’s family’s house. 

Pray for the funds to come in and for God’s provision to meet all the needs for the family.

Follow this link to donate on the GoFundMe.
Or, follow this link, to donate directly to Empower A Child, where it will be tax-deductible.

I guarantee all the money will go directly to the purchase of Musumba’s new house. Not a single shilling will be used for anything other than that.

If you’d rather donate via check or cash, please send it to Empower A Child with a note in the memo that it is to be used for Pastor Paul's house:

Empower a Child
P.O. Box 5026
Oceanside, CA 92052

If you would rather use PayPal, log in to your account, click on the action to send money, and use the email address info@empower-a-child.org to send the money to.

Musumba and Madame standing in front of the house 

Mukama yebazibwe!
(Praise the Lord!)

Malaria shouldn't be a death sentence

My first day back in the village was off to a beautiful start!

I woke up early, as usual. I pulled on my teal knee-length skirt and solid black shirt and walked out the door, sliding on my Keens from the veranda.

God had painted me a beautiful "welcome back" greeting in the form of a gorgeous purple and orange sunrise that backlit the trees on the horizon in front of me.

We attended Morning Glory at 6 a.m. where community and staff members gather in the church to pray over the coming day. To hear multiple voices lifted high in the prayers of local languages intervening on behalf of their community was not only encouraging for my spirit but also a wonderful, melodious sound. 

After about about hour, they had begun to trickle out to work, to their gardens, to school, but not before greeting me with a hug.

I picked up my bible and journal, packed them into my backpack and headed to Empowered Leaders Academy, Empower A Child's primary school in the village.

Immediately, a P7 boy I had met years ago, Marvin, called across the yard, "Welcome back, Auntie Cassie!" A smile stretched from ear to ear on both of our faces, as I exclaimed, "Webale, Marvin! Vudeyo!"

("Thank you! I am back!" In Ugandan culture, someone usually welcomes you back, no matter if you just went to the shop around the corner or if you've been gone for 2 years. Then the proper response is to reaffirm that you are, in fact, back.)

After greeting a few other familiar faces and meeting some new ones, I went to Mamma Luke's house. The boys saw me first and were shocked that I was actually there! They went and got Mamma and she came running with a giant smile on her face, hugging and kissing me! Jennifer even recognized me and Grace was her normal shy self. It was so great to see them again! Oh, how I've missed them!

I served porridge and talked to all the children at the school for a few hours at the school, then went back to the guest quarters to eat. 

Just a little while later, a boy from middle class came into the compound sobbing. He was complaining of a bad headache and body aches. He looked drained and barely able to stand up. I touched his head and his skin was on fire. But he was shivering like it was 30 degrees outside. After trying to see if he was experiencing any other symptoms, we decided to at least get some Tylenol in his body to reduce the pain and fever. He just stared at the cup of water for a few minutes, though. Just as I was about to ask what was wrong, he lunged forward and vomited repeatedly. 

All those symptoms could only mean one thing here in Uganda: malaria.

Malaria is both seen as something as common as a cold or flu in America, but then also treated almost as if it's a swear word.

Because clinics are usually at least an hour's walk away, are ill-equipped to handle most ailments due to lack of knowledge, staff, and resources, or are unaffordable to a family that makes and lives on less than a dollar a day, malaria (like most other medical needs) often goes untreated. 

The problem with malaria is that it doesn't really go away. If you catch it early, you can almost completely snuff it out and manage it easily for the rest of your life. But most people here, cannot catch it early. It runs rampant through their body and implants itself in them. From then on, a flare up can occur at any time and can be severe enough to dehydrate them and, horribly enough, basically cook their brains due to the severity of the fevers. 

Malaria, a disease not even on the minds of Americans, can easily become a kiss of death here. 

I know this might seem like an abrupt change to you guys reading this to go from telling of such joy to a story of such sorrow, but, unfortunately, that is life here in Uganda.

Joy and sorrow can come in the same day, often in the same hour in the hardships of village life. 

For hours, I sat with Mukissa on a foam mattress that we had pulled outside where the air was flowing, as he laid his head in my lap. His fever didn't even seem to be phased by the possibly too strong for his size dose of Tylenol we had given him. He got up a few more times to go to the nearest bush to vomit. His body was so hot that just the heat from his head in my lap was causing a pool of sweat on my skirt- and I'm almost positive it was my sweat, not his. We submerged a shirt in water to put on his head and chest to try to cool him down externally. This also didn't seem to be working. 

I asked if we should call his parents and let them know and see if our local clinic, an hour's walk away, would be any option. The answer my translator gave was straight to the point, "He doesn't have." Then he walked away.

Another crushing blow to my spirit. 

This maybe 6-year-old boy had no mamma to love on him. Not when he had good news, like a passed exam. Not when he felt terrible, like a debilitating bout of malaria. Not ever since his father left his mother. Then she saw Mukissa as the cause of him leaving, which made her son cursed in her eyes. So, she left him to fend for himself and rid herself of the curse. 

He was seeking shelter in abandoned huts. He was scrounging for food in trash piles. He was taken to the police station multiple times for trespassing and stealing. 

Empower A Child found out and put him in school. They found a local mamma to essentially foster him temporarily until a solution can be reached.

I pulled him a little closer into my lap.

Everyone deserves to feel loved. 

As he grabbed my arm and pulled it across his body, wrapping himself in a hug and holding my hand, my tattoo was suddenly visible. He slowly traced it with his finger. 

Unsure if he could read it, I read it for him.

"'Kwagala.' Kwagala nyo." (I love you. I love you so much.)

He smiled for the first time all day and immediately shut his eyes and fell asleep, still unable to look peaceful because his body was shivering. 

I wept.

For a long time. 

Suddenly, my seemingly silly tattoo had done what I had envisioned it doing: being a conversation piece to remind someone that they are loved.

A few more hours of sleep and a dose of some donated anti-malarial medication later, and his fever finally seemed to be breaking. He was able to sit up and eat some food. He even smiled a few times as he sat beside me, watching the Sunday School Children's Choir practice their song and dance for service. 

As the sun was setting, I pulled him onto my back and started the walk back to his temporary home in Kawanda (a thirty minutes journey each way). 

On the way, I couldn't help but think about my friend, Unice.

A year ago this month, I received a call that he had lost his fight with malaria. I met Unice here in 2012, when he was the driver of the van for Empower A Child. He quickly became my best friend. Within days of knowing him, I could tell him anything and he did the same with me. We shared our challenges and our triumphs. He was a serious voice of reason and a laugh, whenever I need either. For the five months I was here, our friendship strengthened daily. He brought me to the airport when I left and cried when he hugged me goodbye.

I didn't know it would be the last time I saw him. 

Unice called me about once a week, often around 1 a.m., when he was on his way to work, or lunchtime, when he was on his way home. It was crazy, due to the time difference and I couldn't always pick his calls and he knew that since I was at work or asleep half the time. But that never stopped him from trying. If I couldn't answer, I'd call back when I could a few hours later. 

The last time I spoke with him, I was in Colorado visiting my friend Sarah. I hadn't seen her in months so I debated answering the call, but, ultimately, I answered it. 

He told me he was actually reading the bible I bought him years ago and was attending a local Christian church- both answered prayers of mine for this devout Muslim man! He said he understood now that Jesus loves him and he loves Jesus. 

Sitting in Sarah's car in front of a coffee shop, I cried.

For years, I prayed for Jesus to be revealed to Unice in a new way. We agreed on everything except our religions. He thought Christianity was silly but couldn't tell me why he thought that.

That day, though, he sounded different. He was usually a happy man, but he sounded joyful and hopeful now. 

He told me he was trying to be a better dad to his daughter and he fought to see her the previous week and was already fighting to see her again soon. (The mother took her away to a far off village and used her to get what she wanted from Unice, like money, but never followed through with letting him see her.) 

He said he had to go because he was going to a transitional church service for those who were previously Muslims so they could learn more about Jesus. He told me about all the new Christian friends he had that were helping him and thanked me for the bible and for talking to him about Jesus.

Sarah and I thanked God for the answered prayers and went home.

A few weeks passed and Unice didn't call. I assumed he just got busy with church and his new friends there, two jobs, and his daughter. 

Then his number appeared on my phone. I answered, "Unice!" but the voice that said, "Cassie?" wasn't his.

The man identified himself as Unice's brother and I knew something was wrong. His brother lived up country. It was an entire day's journey to get to him. 

"So this is Wilson Cassie?" 

I said it was. 

"Unice has died of malaria yesterday. He asked for me to tell you, if it happened, and I just picked his phone from the house. My airtime is up. I'm sorry."

And he was gone.

I didn't know what to do. 

I was at work and I went to the corner and cried. I told my co-worker from Cameroon and she hugged me because she also knows too well how it feels to lose people from malaria.

I called my friends in Uganda and they called around to his village and confirmed that it was true.

Just like that, something that is non-existant in America had taken my friend.

Friday night, as I walked home with Mukissa, I realized that, earlier, we were literally sitting in front of a building that Empower A Child is making into a medical center. There was a lot of irony in that, for me. Given the right finances and political permits, people like Mukissa could go there when the clinic opens in a matter of months and be treated by knowledgeable staff with exceptional equipment and medication, for affordable, minimal fees. 

Suddenly, my heart is touched for those in need of medical attention here and in the surrounding villages. This facility will be able to accommodate locals from multiple villages in every direction. 

This community needs quality medical care!

They don't even have statistics on how many die from malaria because it's so common, especially in the remote villages. 

These people should not have a disease essentially nonexistent in most countries, killing so many of them.

This is my call to action for you, as a reader.

Join me in praying for the completion of the Empowered Community Health Centre Eddwaliro. Pray for the finances to complete it, the equipment to stock it, the staff and personnel to run it, and the government approval to open it.

If you can help in any of those ways, or any others that I didn't mention, please let me know. I will get you connected to the correct people. 

Let's make this big dream a reality.

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I wrote this blog on Friday, as it was all happening. Mukissa came running to me Sunday with a smile on his face and his fever completely gone- another answered prayer! He's back to a happy, playful child that wants to sit in my lap or tickle me and run away, hoping I'll chase after him. 

Since then, I have seen five other young children at school with tears running down their faces or curled up under the trees shaking and trying to sleep, their friends all answering me with the same diagnosis: malaria. 

For every one, like Mukissa, who gets better, there will be one, like Unice, who doesn't. This vicious cycle will continue until proper medical care and education are available to all of these people.

I awaken suddenly.

With the exception of the tiniest bit of daylight beginning to show through the open curtains and the blue glow of my computer charging in the corner, complete darkness surrounds me.

Even before looking at my phone to find the time, I already know, based on the activity level I can hear, what the current time is.

I'm flooded with familiarity.

The rain is pounding on the concrete slab our compound is built upon and the open window amplifies the sound.
A low rumbling of thunder rolls across the city and lasts for what seems like five whole minutes.
A few minutes later, a choir of street dogs howl and bark in the distance, alerting passersby of their presence.
Then the whir of a few boda boda engines can be heard as they zip by and fade out as quickly as they started.
The first rooster crows.
Then crows again.
Then again a few more times.
The loudspeaker of the local mosque boasts the call to worship, which can be heard throughout the entire city.
Neighbors can be heard as they greet eachother and prepare for their days, despite the pouring rain.
Clanging of the large, metal doors of gates begins, as people begin the walk from their houses to the taxi or boda stages to go to work.
The cranes and other birds screech in sky as they fly.

It's 4:30 a.m.

I'm not awake due to jet lag or the time differences between here and America or excitement to begin my time in Uganda, this is just what my body does when I'm in Uganda. 

It syncs seamlessly with the local culture.
There is something in me that says, "The locals are up. You should be, too."

I lay on my foam mattress, wrapped in the blanket I borrowed from my plane ride here with my feet poking out the end, touching the mesh of my mosquito net. The breeze the rain storm has brought is a stark contrast from the hot, sticky air that surrounded me just a few hours before. 

And, for two hours, I just lay here and listen.

All these sounds combined make for my favorite alarm to wake up to.

Soon, the entire city will transform into a scene that is fast-paced, hard-working, and very very noisy.

But for a few hours every morning, I get to witness as the city slowly wakes up from the still, silent night and begins its day.

I still don't know what today will hold for me. (Or any other day that follows, for that matter.)
The other girl here at the base in Kampala with me, Elaine, is a nurse and goes to Katalemwa on Wednesdays. Katalemwa is a rehabilitation center for children with "disabilities", which can range from severe burns from falling into cooking fires to shattered bones to genetic and developmental disorders. I've worked with Katalemwa in previous years and the joy those children have, despite their circumstances, is so encouraging. 

My friends on staff here at Empower A Child will also be coming into  work today, so I should be able to see them, too! Since I arrived at 11 p.m. last night, they had already gone home and I only saw the couple of people who came to the airport to pick me up. 

There is also talk about going to the village! The headmaster of the school needs to return and Patrick will be taking him. I'm hoping I can go with them and hug on my friends in the village, until we can nail down a plan to of what we will be doing and when I can move out there to stay in the village longer.

I do know one thing for certain: today, I will be getting myself a Stoney Tangawizi and a chapati for lunch! You can bet on that!

Closer to Uganda

The bags have been checked through to their final destination- Uganda!- and I am left sitting with just my carry-on and a reassuring spirit of peace that everything will be alright.

The airport is frigid cold; but I expected nothing less. I’ve done this same thing so many times that I came prepared.

I am currently staying warm wearing a pair of knee-high compression socks with my heaviest of winter socks over them, which of course are colorful. They show very noticeably through the gaps in my Keens that were once tan but are now stained with the red dirt from previous trips to Uganda. My feet are propped up on my carry-on and I just had to put on my hoodie on top of my long-sleeve shirt. Did I mention I freeze easily? hah

As I stare at the “58” that signals the gate my plane will leave from, which is connected to the walkway in front of me, I can’t help but feel helpless and, yet, relaxed. I hate waiting. I am not the most patient person in the world, as most of you know, but right now, I cannot do anything other than wait.

There is nothing left to worry about at the moment. It does no good to think about what, if anything, I forgot to pack, or if my bags are too heavy, or if the two giant bags of opened sunflower seeds in my carry-on will raise eyebrows, or if we’ll hit traffic on the way and I’ll miss my flight. For now, everything is okay. And, so I just have to sit and wait until my plane arrives.

With the exception of a minor snafu of not appearing to have a ticket for my flight from Detroit to Amsterdam when I arrived at the airport (but an amazing attendant went above and beyond to get it all straightened out for me), the past 24 hours have been smooth. I even slept soundly last night and that’s something I haven’t been doing a lot of lately and I expected to not sleep at all last night like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Everyone keeps asking how I’m feeling and I’m not entirely sure myself. I’m currently in the state that I previously described- relaxed and peaceful. But, when I get caught in my “thinker” mindset, I have a whole gambit of emotions going.

I’m excited beyond words can even correctly convey, but at the same time, I’m nervous.

I’m nervous about leaving my family, specifically my brother. I know my parents and sisters understand it all, but I am not sure if he does yet. I don’t want him to feel abandoned or upset.

I’m nervous about flying completely alone. I’ve only flown alone internationally once before and it included a 14-hour layover in London that about sent me into a psychotic break—luckily my family Skyped with me almost the entire time to keep me awake and entertained! I’m nervous I’ll miss a connecting flight or that one leg will be cancelled suddenly.

I’m nervous that people I’m so excited to see, won’t remember me. I’ve had this fear every year, and it’s always the stupidest feeling because they always run and greet me and I’m always left feeling ridiculous for thinking I wasn’t significant enough to remember.

I’m nervous that I have no idea what I’m doing. Usually, I go with a plan of what will be happening when I’m in Uganda. This year, I have no idea what my six weeks there will look like. I don’t know what I am going to be doing or who all I will be seeing. I’m just operating on faith and prayer.

I know this is a short and seemingly random post, but it’s just a glimpse into what I’m experiencing as I wait for the first flight on my way back home to Uganda.

Please continue to pray for me—for traveling mercies, for directions, for clarity, for peace, and for whatever else you feel led to pray about!

Next time you hear from me, I’ll be writing from the red dirt of Uganda!