Don't Hesitate to Rescue

A few years ago, my mom told me a story that had been told to her from one of our dear family friends. He had been out to a work lunch and aspirated on a bite of food. Seconds passed as he struggled to get air, while all his colleagues watched him cough. Just when he began to seriously worry for his life, someone at a nearby table came to his rescue.

When telling the story later, he encouraged us to not hesitate to rescue. When someone is suffocating, you can't stand by and watch wide eyed, or hope that someone else will come to their rescue. You must rescue them now. 

This week, we traveled to Jinja, the source of the Nile, so Benji and his brothers could white water raft and I could have a day to read and rest. (I'm just not adventurous, sorry). We traveled by bus with several other rafters. Once we arrived, myself and one other woman stayed behind as every other adventurous soul was outfitted in helmets and life jackets. There was barely time to blow Benji a kiss before he was whisked away. 

After a few hours of fiddle faddling around, the woman and I were loaded into the back of an open bed truck amongst stacks of chairs, plastic tables, and a lifetime supply of toilet paper to make the very bumpy journey to the Nile campsite. 

She and I got talking, and I learned that she lives a very wanderlustful life. She is here in Uganda for a few weeks, then off to Greece, then Siberia, and she doesn't know exactly when she will return to her home in New Zealand. She mentioned the hardest part of her travels is seeing the immense differences in wealth and suffering. 

While talking about all the places she's been, I kept saying "oh! My sister/cousin/husband/brother in law served a mission for our church there..." Since that was practically the only connection I had to most of the places she's been. 

Then, I got that feeling. That gentle, relentless rubbing on my heart that it was this girls' turn to hear about the Gospel. In the course of our conversation she had mentioned that she believed all life was connected and she believed in governing, supernatural forces, but she didn't really believe in God or have any defined beliefs at all. I was afraid. How come it is so much harder to talk to white people about the Gospel than it is to talk to Africans??

So I said a prayer in my heart: "Dear Heavenly Father. Please bless the missionaries to find this girl someday." To which He promptly replied, "Bethany. I sent you." 

Then I thought, "okay maybe tonight we will all sit around the campfire and it will be the perfect opportunity to talk to her. Then I will have Benjis help and this truck is too loud and irreverent anyway, you can't introduce the gospel to someone in the back of a truck on a highway in Uganda." 

Then in my heart I heard the words of our dear friend: "you cannot hesitate to rescue." 

The Spirit whispered to me that this woman has likely never been told in her life that she is a daughter of God. And maybe, the opportunity will never come to her again, for a long time. The time for her to know was now. 

So I gathered my courage and I looked at her and I said "forgive me, I know you said you're not religious, but I just feel like I should tell you this. In my church we believe that God is our Father, and that makes all of us His children, you are His daughter and I am His daughter. And even though there is a lot of suffering and inequality in this world, eventually because of Jesus Christ, because He knows us all perfectly, everything will be alright. And I just felt like I needed to tell you that."

She smiled, and asked the name of my church, and then told me thank you. 

I don't know why it is so difficult to talk about something that is so precious to me. But I'm thankful that I was the messenger for this loved daughter of God, that He trusted me enough to tell her even though He knew it would be hard. 

Whether it is physical or spiritual suffocating, we cannot hesitate to rescue. 

The Lion King Life

Please enjoy these photos of our Safari, because it was breathtaking and inspiring and humbling and beyond words. 

     I think he wants to keep him.

      "These silly Muzungus. They think they are so safe in their safari car"

      "Being a celebrity is so much work."

       Our guide revved the engine and the elephant started shaking his big, beautiful head at us. 

"You shall not pass"

     We saw SO many baboons. They always ran away so fast and showed off their fabulous behinds. 

      Murchison Falls. This is the same water that flows up to Egypt. Uganda is the source of the Nile. 

That my friends, is one of the only 14 rhinos in Uganda. And we just waltzed right into the jungle into its home. Not seen is the little baby by her side. 

Warthogs are ugly. And they make me laugh. 

Maybe sometime I will post the photos of the crocodiles and hippos we passed while taking a boat ride up the Nile. 

Photos

Some of the roads here are very bad.

A flower that looks like a bristle brush

Washing laundry by hand

the mall

We found real, delicious burgers!

Benji said "It's like the Jungle Cruise!"

To Our Fathers

Uganda has one super modern, nice mall. We go there 2 or 3 times a week. We couldn't pass up the opportunity to write a love note to each of our Fathers. They have given us the greatest examples of faith and hard work that we have both needed on this crazy adventure.

 

I hope these next ones say something nice and fatherly for my dad. Otherwise, I apologize.

Healer

The last few weeks have been harder than normal. Some days I was seriously concerned and felt totally disconnected from my true self. Many tears, prayers, and a stellar FHE from my darling husband later, I'm feeling better and hopeful. I've learned a few crucial things in this small time period, and I want to write about the more spiritual ones later, but for now I am just going to talk about today.

One of the biggest issues we've had here is trying to accomplish our purposes. For my schoolwork, we've been back and forth to hospitals, meeting with everyone from the Human Resources Department to the Executive of Nursing, sending letters, rewriting and resending letters, scanning documents, walking into random clinics, etc. etc. It's been frustrating and completely unlike anything we expected.

I quit my job at the hospital April 11th. That means I haven't seen a patient in over two months. A few days before we arrived, our country director's mother in law suffered a debilitating stroke. She was recently moved home with 24 hour nursing care, physical therapy, speech therapy, and a feeding tube.

Our country director had the brilliant idea to have me come see her mother in law. It helps me because I can count it as clinical hours, and it helps her because she gets my perspective on the care her family member is receiving. Win win.

Today I went to see Prossy (not her real name, but its a common name on all the Share a Coke bottles around here). I wore my scrubs because they make me feel safe and I brought my stethoscope. Prossy is completely coherent and aware, yet she has lost the use of all of her throat muscles. She cannot speak or swallow.

I introduced myself and touched her hand and asked for her permission to perform an assessment.  I moved my stethoscope across her chest, listening to her heart and lungs, while simultaneously looking at her eyes to see if they were equal, round, reactive to light and accommodation (take that, nursing school!). I asked her to squeeze my fingers and then I checked her feet for pulses and capillary refill. Two years ago, remembering all of these things was so daunting. Now I did it all by myself in a foreign country.

I sat with her for a few hours, observing and talking with the other nurses. I found two small but not-so-small things to change to help her be more comfortable, and then it was time to go.

On the boda ride home, my heart felt so light and my mind felt happy. I have a patient! This experience reminded me of a few things:

1-When you're helping, you're happy. I think much of my frustration and depression the last few weeks has been from inactivity. We have bodies for a purpose. We weren't meant to be idle. While we have struggled to find clinical sites and research opportunities, we have also struggled to find ways to occupy our time. DOING something was so liberating.

2-I was meant to be, and NEED to be a nurse. How come two hours with an elderly African woman who can't speak to me made such a difference?? The only explanation I can come up with is I was given the talent and desire to heal and when I don't, the sick people are not the only ones who suffer. I do.

On an unrelated note, we found a West African restaurant and it was SO DELICIOUS. West Africa uses a lot more spices in their cooking than East Africa. Basically, we go through a bottle of ketchup a week to help things taste like flavor. BUT NOT ANYMORE--we found Mama Ashanti's and Benji was so excited to show me all the yummy things from his mission (Except say no to Fufu) and I ate beef. Which thankfully had no bones in it. AKA, iron. My anemic self was so happy.

Also, as I type this we are facetiming with two of Benji's brothers who ARE ON THEIR WAY, TO US. Bearing plenty of processed snack food, and I don't even care. I'm going to eat it all. Family. It's the best thing.

Once again, the photos are not cooperating. Hopefully one of these days I can do a photo only post.

Are We Not all Beggars?

Last night, we found this perfect Indian restaurant and went out to eat with some American friends. It was probably the most well fed I have been since we left the States. I was grateful.

On the way home, we stopped and got ice cream cones (Ugandan vanilla is superior to American vanilla) and licked them happily to ourselves on the way home.

As we rounded a corner, we saw two little children sitting against a wall, one with a basket of bananas and the other avocados. As we approached, the little girl said "Bananas?" "No." I replied, although as I said it I wanted to give her all the money we had and let her keep the bananas. I heard her softly say as we walked away, "ice cream" and my heart broke neatly in two.

While taking the public transportation, I saw a man walking from car to car asking for money. He had only two soles for shoes, tied onto his feet with plastic trash bags.

During dinner, a teenaged girl crept into the restaurant and approached Benji (I think he just exudes so much light and goodness that out of 7 of us seated at the table, she chose him) and asked him for some money because she was thirsty. Benji instead offered her some of our water, and she refused and walked away. 

On the way to dinner, we passed a man who was obviously born with some sort of malformation. His legs are short and come out at an awkward angle on each side, almost frog like. He wears his flip flops on his hands as he crawls around. I have seen him twice on that particular road.

I feel overwhelmed with the suffering. Benji has fellow PEAT interns in various parts of the world, and they likewise share photos of heart wrenching things in Ecuador, Cambodia, etc. etc. Not to mention the amount of suffering at home, in the United States, in Utah.

I don't really know what the point of this post is, except that my heart deals with things by bringing them up and outside of myself into words on a page. Also, I may be casting out for someone somewhere to help me carry this hurt.

I know that the Savior of the World was born in and lived a life similar to those I see in this country. He was not afraid to reach out and touch those who were diseased or living in the dirt. I know that He knows the names and circumstances of each of these children of God. He comprehends all things. Somehow I will keep praying and find a way to give more.

Now please enjoy this photo of my darling brother.

Days

On Sunday, Benji and I fasted that we would be blessed with clinical opportunities for me and research opportunities for him. 

So then on Monday Benji rolled his ankle and it swelled up beautifully and I got to play nurse.

Then today, I fell and skinned my knee pretty badly and got to use my first aid kit for the first time.

That's what happens when you pray for medical situations. 

In all seriousness, we just experienced a miracle. Emma has a friend who is a nursing student at Makerere University. Emma called this friend and asked for his help in securing clinical sites for me. A few hours later, Dennis Mulondo arrived at our compound to meet me. We gave him some letters from my BYU professors that he is going to take to his professor and *hopefully* get this twist in the road straightened out. God is so good.

Yesterday, we went to a village outside of Mukono town to visit a group of women and a group of school children who received Days for Girls kits a year and a half ago. (Repeat: I love African villages). When we arrived, the group of women were sitting under a large, shady tree waiting for us. This women's group developed seven years ago as a savings group, but most recently they've been making and selling soap and reusable menstrual hygiene kits. We wanted to check on their progress and address any concerns. 

I love introducing myself to Ugandans. You always say "Good morning" or "good afternoon" and they always respond with "Good morning." Sort of like Aloha in Hawaii. Sometimes they tack on 'sabo' for a gentleman or 'nyabo' for a lady. Benji introduced himself, and then said "this is my wife" and gestured to me. The ladies grinned and smiled and started clapping. They really like married people, I guess. I think we should all always clap when a couple is married. Maybe divorce rates would go down internationally. 

Right after we introduced ourselves, it started to rain. We scampered inside and I had the awesome privilege of waiting out an intense African rainstorm inside a brick, mortar, and tin roofed hut in the jungle. It was awesome. All the little children laid down and fell asleep. The rain is so loud. I felt happy and peaceful. 

When the rain quieted down I taught this little group of women about the rhythm method of contraception. With an interpreter. It was great. Africans have lots of interesting perceptions of family planning, and encouraging different methods is one of the goals we are trying to achieve. Sometimes the rhythm method is the only thing they are willing to do.

Then, we went and visited a school. They recently built a new latrine with a separate place for the boys, the girls, and the teachers AND they provided a washroom for the girls. SUCCESS, PEOPLE. 

We were conducting some surveys and noticed a small group of shy children huddled around the door, whispering and giggling. I tried to talk to them, but they ran away. So I hid close to the entrance and Benji let me know when they were creeping back. I jumped and yelled and they all squeeled and laughed and ran away. Then I went and shook all of their darling little hands and asked them how old they thought I was. They said 5. fabulous. 

A group of older boys were playing soccer (football) in the field behind the school. Benji ran and jumped in and they all stopped. He had the ball and he said "come on! Try and take it from me!" They didn't hesitate after that and I got some great video on the goPro of this tall white man playing soccer with a herd of barefooted Ugandan boys. You should have heard them cheer when he hit the ball off the top of his head. It was beautiful. (This is also when he rolled his ankle. It's all fun and games until...)

I have pictures but it takes about 30 minutes per photo to upload and I just don't have the patience for that. 

We're still plugging along out here (Benji is limping along). Thanks for praying for us and loving us. I try not to spend my entire day waiting for it to be today in Utah so that my mom will text me back or for my favorite bloggers to wake up and post something. The days are long but the weeks are short.

The Weekend

Weekends around here are interesting. All the sewing women leave at 5 p.m. Friday and don't come back until 9 a.m. Monday. Dorcus and Emma alternately leave to visit their families and/or distant friends, so sometimes it is just us, trying to entertain ourselves.

Friday, our region experienced a massive rainstorm in which the power transmitter pole thing was knocked over and we lost all power (aka WiFi access). We also lost our running water that day, so neither of us can remember the last time we showered.

The power was restored around 6 p.m. and we decided to watch a movie on Dorcus' recently acquired television and DVD player. Lucky for us, one of the only appropriate and English movies she owns is High School Musical….all three of them.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit how homesick watching High School Musical made me. Moving on.

While watching the movie, we got a hankerin' for brownies. Hardly anyone in Uganda has their own oven, and the office is no exception. Even if we scrounged up the ingredients, we have no way to bake them into brown chocolately goodness.

Enter: www.hellofood.ug It's the best thing since chapati. Basically these boda guys on motorcycles get your online order to almost any restaurant, go and buy it for you, and then deliver. So while Troy and Gabriella were impressing us with their cheesy high school romance, Benji was entering an order for two brownies, two chocolate chip cookies, and a side salad. His number and address were submitted, and just when he hit submit, the power went out. Again. So we said whatever to the brownies and the movies and got ready for bed.

Around 11 p.m., teeth brushed, mosquito net pinned shut, scriptures read, we noticed missed calls from an odd number on our Ugandan phone. Benji called them back and discovered a pair of disheveled boda men desperately trying to deliver two brownies, two chocolate chip cookies, and a side salad. "We have been trying to find you for an hour!" One of them said, to which Benji replied, "I'm sorry, but I didn't actually know I had ordered anything!"

After waking up Emma for the third time that night to unlock the gates, we enjoyed our little picnic 'neath our mosquito net at 11:30, laughing all the way.

Saturday, we decided to attend a traditional African Introduction. Before Africans wed, they are "introduced," which is where they formally introduce each other to their parents. It is a huge, huge party and the groom gives the bride's parents massive amounts of gifts to ease their pain at marrying off one of their daughters.

Hundreds of people come, and the African women wear the traditional dress, called a "gomesi." On Friday, the ladies in the office decided to dress me up in one of them:

They have very very puffy shoulders.

The wedding was absolutely overwhelming. Hundreds of people, all speaking a language we don't understand, for six hours. It was fun, however, to see all the different colorful gomesi's and observe the extravagant gift giving and the rituals. Plus we got free food. So there's that.

All those tents were the Introduction

We were at the very back of about 500 people

We got to see baby Hewan again!

Rolled up chapati, watermelon, matooke with smashed nuts, rice, unnamed foods, French beans, cucumbers. The bowl was cow tongue.

Chicken cooked in a banana leaf

More people

Sunday, both Dorcus and Emma were out and we were left to our own devices. For breakfast, we each had a handful of goldfish, a pop tart, and our malaria pills. For lunch we had rice. For dinner we had fresh green beans and rice. Needless to say we need to plan for the weekends a little better. 

Then last night, during High School Musical 3, we were joined by a beautiful butterfly! Anyone who knows Benji knows that butterflies are not his favorite thing….so it fell to me to capture the pretty thing and let it back outside. 

We are both a little desperate to accomplish what we came here to accomplish. I'm struggling to get clinical sites and Benji is struggling to access school girls. The trouble is, we have to wait for them to come to us wanting the Days for Girls services because a fee is charged for all the training and materials. We can't exactly call them and say "Hey, pay us to come train you." Likewise, the hospitals don't want some Muzungu claiming to be a trained nurse knocking on their door with no evidence. So, pray for us that we will be able to meet our objectives.