His Hope Uganda

Happy New Year everyone,

True to my “world’s greatest procrastinator” title, I am writing this update just a few hours before I leave Uganda to take a much needed break in Canada. The plan was to write one before I left, so at least I’m on time.

I have to say that I’m not too happy to be heading back to Canada. I cried saying bye to my two teenage daughters (the older of whom is rejoicing at my temporary absence and the younger who really doesn’t want to see me go) when they left for school in the morning and I felt like a complete loser. The thought of being away from them, and from all these kids (and my beloved Clooney), for seven weeks makes my heart feel pretty sad. One of our boys, Ronald, told me on Sunday that Jesus said in the Bible that I’m not allowed to go to Canada. Well, at least I know I’m loved (and that we’re teaching these kids good Biblical principles).

Although it is difficult to leave (much harder than I expected and definitely harder than it’s been before), I will admit there are a few things that I’m not going to miss.

The first thing I’m looking forward to getting away from is dust. I woke up this morning to wash my clothes and I was surprised to find water dripping on me from the roof. This was a forgotten feeling for me and it took me a few seconds to figure out what had happened. What’s that word for the water that falls from the sky again? It’s been so long that I don’t remember. Rain! That’s it! I think it must have rained last night. We have gone 52 days without rain and unless you come and walk our dirt roads in person, you will never understand the ridiculous amount of dust that covers you head to toe, all day long, every day. I miss rain.

Okay, I just asked Uncle Eman if it rained last night and he informed me that it did not. So, onto day 53 but I’m leaving today so I’m going to stop counting. Now I’m trying to figure out what was dripping on me this morning from the roof. Bird pee maybe?

Another thing I will not miss is the “friendly” mice that have recently taken over my room and our entire house. They make a lot of noise at night and try stealing my precious food and poop a lot and then sometimes they die and smell really really bad.

Actually, in writing that I have just realized that it will be nice to have a break from the kids for a few weeks for those exact reasons. They make a lot of noise at night and steal my food and poop too much and smell really bad sometimes (alive).

And so, let me say goodbye to the mice and the dust and the beans and the wonderful but dirty kids and the intensely hot sun (which I’ve become addicted to) and hello to snow (yay!), family and friends, driving, Family Channel and the Canucks, sweatpants, lots of tea with milk in it, and, the real reason I go back to Canada, FOOD! I’ve been dreaming about the food for weeks now and it might just be the one thing that will get me on the plane. I’ve even been looking forward to the airplane food, that’s how bad it’s gotten. Oh, and it will be nice to see all of you too (as long as we are eating while catching up).

I do have to warn you about two things before I come back however.

First, I was told by my sister while she was here that I have gotten into the Ugandan habit of picking my nose in public places. Now, I do feel ashamed writing that but I think I would feel more ashamed if I just happened to start doing it in front of you without any warning whatsoever. So, I apologize in advance and I am asking you to help me out by giving a discreet signal (like maybe pointing at your own nose and raising your eyebrows in disgust) if my finger goes anywhere near my nose while I’m anywhere in public. But don’t worry, I’m not a digger (yet).Also, I have been working on my tan in preparation for coming back (sad but true) but I am in England for a week before setting foot on Ugandan soil and I think it will fade considerably while I’m there. So I may be whiter than expected but I assure you I have been in Uganda. My nose picking will be proof of that

After officially spending three years here (has it really been that long?), I no longer expect to be moved by many things anymore. The feeling that I used to feel when I first came over, the one that moves me to tears, has faded and I have become used to my surroundings and used to the way of life in Uganda. But this past week, God has once again reminded me of not only how much I have, but that true joy is not even associated with that.

For the past two years, we have been raising money for Christmas packages, which are packages of food, mattresses and blankets, kitchen supplies, and gardening tools that we give out to families in rural villages who need them. We introduced this program for a three main reasons. First, we wanted people in Canada to have the opportunity to give money for a specific purpose so that they could be able to see pictures and read information about where their money has gone. Second, we wanted to be able to give practical but valuable things that families need and would probably not be able to have. And third, we wanted to be able to reach out to the communities and villages we work in to be able to build relationships and spread the Gospel outside of the families in our program.

This year we were blessed to receive lots of donations and we were able to give out a lot of packages last week. We went to a village that we have not worked in before and there we found a family that was unlike any family I have ever come across.

One mother is taking care of seven children between the ages of two and eighteen. Although they live right beside a school, none of the children are in school because the mother has no money to pay any of their fees. Their small brick house is almost completely empty and the dirt floor that they sleep on every night has caused every child to be infected with something called jiggers.

Jiggers are tiny insects that live in the dirt that burrow into people’s skin, usually in their feet, that cause extreme pain and itchiness. I have seen jiggers a lot here (my brother and sister have both had them) but never like I saw them in this family.

The oldest son in the family, Derrick, is eighteen and he is slightly handicapped because a few years ago he got cerebral malaria and wasn’t treated properly. The jiggers in his feet have caused him to be lame and he usually walks on his knees. As a result, he has jiggers in his knees, hands and elbows. Most of the children in the family can’t walk properly because their feet are so swollen and painful. They have jiggers all over their bodies because they sleep in the dirt every night.

Apart from the next story I’m going to write about, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so heartbreaking, frustrating, and inspiring all at the same time.

I don’t understand why people have to live in conditions like that. I don’t understand why innocent children have to suffer so much. There is more than enough in the world to go around but people die every day from preventable diseases and hunger and I can’t understand it.

At yet, Derrick greeted us with a huge smile and would not stop talking about how good God is the whole time we were there.

The thing that really gets to me is that.

I believe in Jesus Christ and I believe that He is enough and that he never puts us through more than we can handle. But if He asked me to live like that, I don’t know how I would do it.

When I think of that family, and the millions like theirs, who not only have the strength and courage to face every day, they have the ability to do it with joy, I am truly humbled. And thankful for the opportunity to learn from them. How do they survive? Ask Derrick.

The story that has touched my heart more than any other, however, is the story of two boys named Swaibil and Hobaida.

Swaibil and Hobaida are two brothers, ten and twelve years old, who have been suffering from a disease called xeroderma pigmentosum, a severe sun allergy, for the last six years. They were born physically healthy but about six years ago they both started showing symptoms of the disease at the same time.

They first came to us a year and a half ago and they had spots all over their skin and their faces had been deformed by tumours and wounds. Their mother, a young Muslim woman who raises them alone because their father left, told us that Swaibil had had to have his tongue cut repeatedly because it would swell to the point where he could no longer breathe. Both boys are nearly blind.

We took them to a dermatologist at the end of 2010 and he gave them some medication but basically said that there was not too much that we could do. We were in touch with them a little bit last year but the mother only brought them to us when they were sick.

They came back a few weeks ago and Hobaida had a tumour growing on his eye and Swaibil had one on the back of his head. We took them to see specialists in Kampala and set a date to return for surgery the following week, where each boy would get surgery at a different place on the same day.

In Uganda, disabilities are very misunderstood and often viewed as curses. People with disabilities are often not accepted. So we decided that before their surgeries, the boys needed to do something fun, something normal. We planned to take them bowling but when we got to Kampala the bowling alley was closed to we ended up at the zoo instead.

After a delicious lunch on the beach, we went to the zoo. The boys had never been to the zoo before and they had a great time seeing the animals. But the part they enjoyed the most was playing on the swings and the monkey bars at the children’s play area. What an honour and a pleasure to see them laughing and having fun like boys should, something that they had never really been able to do before.

Everywhere they go, Swaibil and Hobaida are stared at. When we took them out for lunch there was a cleaning woman who stood staring at them with her mouth open (literally) for probably two full minutes before coming to ask us what was wrong with them. It upset me so much but didn’t seem to bother them at all.

These boys might be the most appreciative people I have ever met. I have never heard them complain. But what I love the most about them is just their ability to enjoy life despite their circumstances. They are not afraid to be stared at or even laughed at. They are thankful for everything they have. And they can laugh. Despite everything they have been through, they are still able to smile.

Hope. While I was watching Swaibil and Hobaida play at the zoo last week, the word hit me and I started thinking about it.

The name of this organization was originally going to be “Hands of Hope” but I looked it up and it was already taken so I chose “His Hope” instead, which I’m now thankful for because it is much more fitting. People sometimes ask me who the “His” is in “His Hope” and it kind of takes me aback because I think it should be obvious. We are here to spread the message of the hope of Jesus Christ. We are also here to give people hope. But what does that mean?

We have given hope to 122 children and their families who are being sponsored and educated and treated and cared for. Some of them have come from abusive homes but have hope in knowing that they will not have to go back. We have given hope to thirteen families who now have permanent homes to live in and twenty families who no longer have to go to the bathroom where there is no bathroom. We have given hope to Abdallah, a deaf boy who is new to our family who is now is school learning how to read and write. He will now have a chance in life because he will be able to communicate with people. We have given hope to the families we have reached out to through giving Christmas packages. We have given hope to Eliasa, who is probably alive today because of the treatment he is getting for hydrocephalus, and his grandmother, who loves him and takes care of him in an amazing way. There are so many stories, and so many people, who have been touched by this ministry and who have been given a reason to hope.

But in the past few weeks, the word hope has taken on a new meaning to me. I no longer feel like we are giving people hope, I feel like we are the ones who are learning what hope is.

When I see Swaibil and Hobaida, I feel hope. When I meet kids like Derrick and his brothers and sisters, I feel hope. They are teaching me what hope is.

Hope is knowing that despite all the hardships in life and how the world seems to be falling apart, there are still so many good people. I can have hope in knowing that God is alive and still very much in control, because I see Him living in them. I see His Hope everywhere I look, in this country and in these people. I wish they knew and I wish I could tell them how thankful I am for giving me hope.

Many of you may have heard that we lost one of our children at the beginning of January.

While my sister was here, we heard that one of the girls in our program, Joan, was sick and in the hospital. We went to visit her in the hospital on a Saturday and I was shocked by how weak she was. She could barely greet us but she used all her strength to sit up and give us hugs. When I told her Uncle Eman was outside she insisted in going out to greet him and when she couldn’t walk to the car, I carried her outside. I remember how desperately she clung to me and how happy she was to see us. The doctor told us that she had meningitis but assured us that she was on treatment and would get better. I left the hospital feeling worried but thinking that she would get better.

The next day we went back and she was even worse. But she was still excited to see us and wouldn’t let go when we hugged her. I promised her we would be back tomorrow and the doctor promised us she was getting better. We weren’t able to go back and we got a phone call on Monday saying that she needed to be transferred to Kampala. We were out in the village that day building a toilet and we weren’t able to see her before she left. We arranged for a car to pick her up and take her to Kampala, sure that we would be able to visit her on Saturday.

On Thursday we got a phone call from her grandmother saying she had passed away.

Joan was ten years old. She was born with HIV and her parents both passed away when she was young. She lived with her grandmother her whole life. If you didn’t know she was sick, you never would have guessed. She was always full of life and energy and never complained about anything. She was always, literally always, smiling. She was a sweetheart. And she gave the best hugs.

I knew that the day would come when we would lose one of our children, but it was harder than I thought it would be. For a long time I struggled with guilt and with regret in knowing that we should have gone to see her again. I should have stayed and hugged her longer. I should have told her how special she was and how much I loved her.

But I know that Joan died knowing she was loved. In June last year, she was able to meet and spend time with her sponsors, which I’m sure was the highlight of her ten years on earth. We were all blessed to know her and she touched each of our lives. She will be missed but she will not be forgotten.

As much as I’ve learned and said about hope, my true hope is and will always be in Jesus Christ. In knowing that this life is only temporary but my real life has not yet begun.  And in knowing that Joan is in heaven today and that one day I will hug her again.

Please pray for Joan’s family, especially her grandmother who is still really grieving. Pray for God’s comfort and strength and peace to be with her.Please continue to pray for all of our children and their families, that God would continue to work in their lives and watch over them.

Pray for Swaibil and Hobaida and for God’s healing in their lives. Pray especially for Swaibil who is still in the hospital for another week recovering from his surgery and expecting to have another. Pray that God will continue to fill them with strength and joy so they can continue blessing people’s lives. Also pray for peace for their mother.

We are going to be having a fundraiser at the beginning of March. Please pray that it goes well and that attendance is good.

There is a possibility that someone might be coming over to start a His Hope medical clinic, which would be a huge answer to prayer and a big blessing. Please pray for her as she makes decisions and waits patiently. Pray for God’s peace and guidance and that His will would be done and that the plans would come together smoothly.

Please pray for our staff, especially Auntie Christine, as they stay here in the heat and dust to run the organization. They need protection, wisdom, and strength.

I’m finding it a lot harder than I thought I would to leave, and every time I go I have this fear in the back of my head that maybe I won’t ever be back. Please pray that God would give me peace and help me to let go of all I’m hanging on to as I leave it behind. Pray that I will be able to rest and find time with Him while I’m away and that He will strengthen me and guide me.

Thank you for reading and for sharing in His Hope with all of us. I hope you are all feeling God’s blessings in your lives and I’m looking forward to seeing many of you soon (with a hot cup of coffee and some pie perhaps). Much love and many blessings,

Auntie Kimi