Goodbye Firenze, Hello Napoli

Preface....   

During my time in Florence, I often wanted to write something, but I do not like to write about nothing.. Though we do partner with Florence Gospel Fellowship while we are in Florence, it feels more like a vacation than a mission. The bottom line for me is that it is actually cheaper for me to stay in Florence with Dennis and Karen Quick than it is to fly home and then turn around and fly back. I do enjoy staying in Florence, but I do not want to update everyone about missions telling them I went and spent an afternoon by the pool with a friend, or enjoyed a glass of wine overlooking one of the main tourist destinations in Europe. I had a relaxing time in florence, participated in church activity, but now its back to full throttle working the festival... This is what I have accumulated  typing over the last month or so. 

August 8

My days have been very nice. I have always enjoyed staying with the Quicks while in Italy. I usually wake up around 7 in the morning. The shutters to my window are typically closed, however, the light burst in around the cracks providing enough illumination to open your eyes. The bells usually begin around that time. God gently wakes me up and tells me to relax; just lay there for a while and be still, listen to the birds, and the bells. Think about me for just a little while. 

The temperature outside is cool in the morning. If you want to take advantage of it, you have to move quickly before the air that sits in the valley of the city begins to heat up. There are large shutters that hide the morning light in the dining room. As I walk in, I love to open the doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor; large hand crafted doors that were custom made specifically for this opening. I think about how they were designed only for this opening. They had a specific purpose when the craftsman began to formulate a plan in his head. There were requirements that they would have to meet, ways they would need to function, and needs that they had to fill. They have features that I have never seen on any other door; designed only for this doorway. Many times I have had a feeling where I don’t have a specific purpose, yet I don’t think that is true. I can serve in many ways. God has a very specific purpose for my life, just like this door. There are requirements God has for me. There are special ways that I was designed to function. There are needs that only I can meet. God knew these things, he is the craftsman that saw the opening and formulated a design, shaped me to fit the opening - just like this door. 

..I open the doors and let the cool air pour into the room and it is remarkably refreshing.

Micah and his cold hard cash.

The other day I decided I wanted to go for a walk. I thought I would ask Micah (Dennis and Karen’s son) to come with me. I have never really gone on a walk with him, but I figured he might want to get outside. As he walks he thinks about ideas for his comic books which he likes to draw. As I watch him I can see him shape ideas. I can see the expressions on his face as he acts out scenes from his vast imagination. His hands clench, and he looks down at the immense sword that he is now holding in his hand; an epic stand-off is now taking place. He gets excited about his idea and suddenly turns around to come and explain it to whomever is willing to listen. There is something refreshing about Micah. He gets excited like a small child when he finds change on the street as he walks. 

We were walking as he called out to me to point to a crumpled up 5 Euro bill that was sitting on the ground. He stood over it with one hand in a fist and the other hand pointed directly at the bill as he began to crouch closer and closer; concentrating on the bill with a big smile on his face. He is a child in a man’s body. As we walked on from there I tried to get him to talk about what he wanted to use it for, “Micah, what are you going to do with all that cash you just found? You are rich!” He would think about it for a few moments as we walked and reply by telling me that he wanted to save it. 5 Euro is quite a bit more than he has picked up before. He is used to the 5 or 10 euro cent coins. We eventually went into an art store where he decided to purchase a 4 euro sketchbook. Micah’s world is loving his family, eating, and immersing himself in his imagination. When he eats, he prays for his little dog Moses, his father, and to keep everyone safe and healthy. God has a special place for people like Micah. 

August 14

Dennis and Karen had an opportunity to say goodbye to one of our good friends in who lives near Naples. Andrea Mazza is a young man who has been coming every year to attend our camp. He has been in love with the same girl since we met him and has wanted to marry her for a long time. Just the same as many young people in Italy, looking for a job offered up little result. He has had several jobs offering minimum wages and little consistency. Some time ago, he looked into joining the Italian Air Force and discovered that he was a perfect applicant. The time has drawn closer and closer until now he stands weeks before he will spend the next years of his life serving his country. He is going to leave his friends, family, and the girl that he hopes to marry in hopes of making some money to provide.

August 27

There are few days remaining for me in Florence before we make the trip down to Naples for the Festival. The Festival will be the finishing touch on my summer of serving God in other countries, and then its back home to join in on the work that God is doing there. Florence has been good this year, but as usual there has been a sense in my head that I am too relaxed here. The pasta, the weather, and the extensive history of this place makes this a very easy place to pass time. Though we have been involved with the Florence Gospel Fellowship here, it seems having an impact on the people here is not God’s priority for us. The old city is a tourist destination. There is no hardship here, no need in people’s lives for Christ; there is only the desire to relax in vacation and see old buildings with famous art. They are here for a day or two, then gone; onto the next destination. The stationary population of Florence is outside the walls of the old city, where the people are experiencing a more real hardship and strain. The ancient city of Florence is a pocket which has been somewhat isolated from the failing Italian economy due to the income of tourism. The Florentines have discovered their cash crop. I interact with the few people left from the student and resident population on a weekly basis, for church, movie nights, and random get togethers. It is nice to be able to encourage them, but more than the locals, we have catered to our friends from the south. We have hosted several people from Naples and given them a short break from their struggles. Many southern Italians have never even seen Florence which always makes it fun to host them. 

Mena and Pasquale came
up to visit from Naples

I can’t count the number of times God has made me think of home. Not that it is a longing to be home, but a reminder of the things that make home wonderful. I see things even in florence that make me think about moments with family and friends back home. I saw a man riding a bicycle today that made me think about my friend Neal and the fun that I have had riding bikes with him. When I walk around the city and see some of the roses I think about my Uncle Mark and how he keeps the roses that grace the inviting space of their back yard. I see other places that make me think of Uganda, places that take me back to my home town of Gold Beach, and places that take me right into trying to imagine what heaven looks like. There is not a day when I don’t think about the people that I love, but learning to just relax is actually a little difficult for me. Perhaps I wont feel completely relaxed until I am in my real home with Jesus. 

September 5

Naples. 

Life inside a Van.

We wind to an abrupt stop. The gutters are lined with garbage, old cars, and pigeons. A scooter has just stuck its front tire too far into the road after trying to enter the roadway being hidden by a parked delivery truck. The honking and hand gestures begin. Just down the road you can see beautiful canopies sheltering customers from the scorching mediterranean sun while they relax for a moment to talk with each other over some Napolitano Cafe. They don't even flinch with the commotion caused by the scooter. It is just another day for the busy city. 

I am deceived by the cool interior of the van as I gaze out the window, looking at two pocket sized cars that have been nestled into their parking places. Their bumpers kiss as they wait patiently; frozen until their keys set them free. People walk by wearing their tight designer pants and contour forming shirts; arm in arm. Empty water bottles and fragments of plastic wrapping blow aimlessly across the street. The garbage accumulates at the street corners where the people wait eagerly for the trucks to come and remove it. The van begins to move.

The sound of the cobble stone street against the tires gets louder and begins to drown out the sound chatting inside the van. The back seat in Naples is not a hospitable place to carry a conversation. The unpredictable turns and curves force me to lean left and right. Each street looks stunning and almost exactly like the street I just saw before we last turned. Beautiful clothing lines stretched across the road over head. The buildings are aged and crumbling. 

I learned something the other day that I found quite interesting. When you walk by some of the buildings of these narrow streets in Arzano, you may find yourself wondering, “why dont they take pride in where they live?” The buildings are old and worn. The aged bricks are exposed to the weather, the paint that once made the plaster surfaces vibrant is faded and peeling, and the plaster itself has crumbled and fallen off the buildings over the years. The window shutters are broken and crooked; the paint peeling off of those as well. The inside of the homes, however, are beautiful and immaculate. Occasionally you get a glimpse through a window on the street level and see the poster child of cleanliness almost every time. Why do they not take care of the outside of their homes? The taxes imposed on people for their equity is measured by the condition of the exterior of their building, so why bother with it if you can still keep a clean home?

We have made a few trips to the Villa in which we are holding the event. Our first trip revealed the condition of the Villa in its un-manicured and somewhat neglected state. The fountain was off and the water was green and stagnant. The hedges are all overgrown with pine needles penetrating nearly every thinkable space. The drains are all filled with standing water; making perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes. I sat on a park bench there when I felt a bite on my ankle. I looked down to see not one but six mosquitoes on the same ankle sucking the life out of me. I slapped them and ended up smearing bloody mosquito all over my legs. I looked around to see where they might be coming from. To my dis-satisfaction, they were coming from the drain. It looked like a super-highway of mosquitoes constantly flowing in and out.. 

Our next trip to the Villa the following day we were welcomed by a spouting fountain into crystal clear waters. The bottom of the fountain needed a little scrub. I wanted to jump in with a scrub brush and get some work done..  We setup all of our booths, each person on the team working in their assigned booths; making sure that everything is ready to go.

I think one thing which stands out to me about the people in the south is authenticity. In Florence, the people are used to dealing with tourists all day. They are typically more inconvieninced and short tempered when dealing with people that wander into their stores. I know that when they learn that I am American the response is mixed, but mostly, it comes across to me either as an “...great. are you going to buy anything or not?” or “American? ...one of those.” Everyone that I get to interact with in Naples is excited to meet someone from America. Tourists don’t go to Naples. Foreigners are a novelty. Everyone wants to know you, and talk to you. When they hear that you are doing work for their city, they wont let you pay for things.

I was with Brian Heerwagon the other day when we went into a store along a very busy and narrow street. As we stood there and spoke to him, one of his workers was slicing Buffalo Mozzarella and placing them into containers. The shop owner walked over to the counter, and handed the containers to us with plastic forks. We happily obliged and ate the mozzarella (Which is better than any mozzarella I have ever had) and tried to pay for it when he gave us a look like it was an insult. The people here are so real, and so relational, it is very easy to fall in love with them.

Adjusting to Florence

        On thursday we had a night activity where we activated 100 glow sticks and spread them throughout the camp. The students were supposed to go out in the dark, and collect as many as they could for their team to gain points. We had done this before, only this time we added a new element to the routine. Dennis decided to tell them a story about The Ghost of the Old Mill Camp. The mill was once used as a mental institution, where there were many patients. There was once a man at the institution who was so crazy... he escaped into the woods surrounding the facility and was never found. It is assumed sometime later he died in the woods and has been wandering the grounds haunting people ever since. This eventually led to the condemnation of the facility, which was later given to the church and used as a church camp. It just so happens that this is the time of year when this ghost was notorious for his hauntings. Of course, none of this is true, but the stage had been set as we let the students out into the field. The lights illuminated the field as Dennis corralled them all into the center and told them to look into the light. Suddenly, the lights went black, and the students let out a shriek. I sat patiently in a bush; shaded from the moonlight, waiting for my opportunity to pounce on an unaware student. I was clothed in a suit that covered my entire body in black, making me completely invisible if I stood in front of a black backdrop. I placed a glow stick out in front of the bush where it was easily seen and would draw in one of the students. Just a short time later, a girl came jogging over to the glow stick. As she reached down to pick it up I made my move. I came out of the bush in a speed that said I had some business to attend to. At first the girl did not notice me, only heard the movement of the bushes. As she realized that there was a dark figure approaching her very fast, her eyes became large, stood up, and moved back; screaming. She turned away and flailed her arms. I pointed my flashlight at her and illuminated her as she sprinted across the field wailing in terror. The ghost had many victims that night, stealing glow sticks from the helpless students. At the end of the night there was a count to see who had collected the most sticks to advance their team. Turns out it was the ghost. 

        The rest of the camp went very well. I think we typically feel warn out toward the end of camp yet do not like the thought of leaving. We build quite a bond with the Italians. Our camp finished up on Friday night with a bonfire and testimonies. We sat outside until 2:00 am talking and worshiping. I ended up getting into bed at 3:15. In the morning we had a combined effort to clean the camp and make sure that everything was packed as we said our goodbyes and slowly, parents came to collect their children. 

        The missions train has departed from Naples and moved north to Florence. Amy, Laura, Micah, Dennis, Karen, and I purchased our tickets and sat in three separate locations on three separate train cars. The trip only took about an hour and a half, arriving in Florence with much of the day to spare.

..........

        As I write this paragraph, we have been in Florence for 1 week. We have really enjoyed being here. Laura and Amy have been with us for part of the first week, moving into their house after a few days of crashing at our apartment. Karen and I have come up with an eating plan and an exercise routine. We eat breakfast, a big lunch with pasta, and then a medium dinner with no pasta. Typically we are eating meat and vegetables in the evenings. 

Did I mention that I am also the resident portrait guy?

        We attended Florence Gospel Fellowship and met with our missionary friends, Tula and Maurizio Secundi. They have been keeping the church going the whole year and were telling us about the ways that God has been blessing their ministry. They are truly wonderful people. Some of the remaining students who have been serving for the year  with FGF led worship. One of the girls from Germany played piano and sang. A sweet and beautiful voice echoed off the hard surface of the church walls. The Piano was beautiful as it’s chorus reverberated out the large doors into the street. People came in little by little to join in the worship. It seemed that every time I would turn around there would be new people in the seats behind me. The church service was a little more un-structured than I am used to. Dennis, Amy, Laura, and I were called forward individually to update people on what we have been doing the past few weeks serving God in Italy and Uganda. It is always a grab bag of what is going to take place; you never know when you might be asked to speak. Maurizio preached a nice message. Toward the end of the service, we all gathered around the German girl and prayed over her because she was going back to Germany for good. She asked if she could sing, “just one more song”. Of course. One last time she massaged the ivory keys and sang her heart out with an audience of one in mind. After service we were all invited up into the room above the church where everyone enjoys chips, and soda. The announcement was made that we would be holding church services for the rest of August in the comfort of our air conditioned apartment. There was some excitement, yet some disappointment as well since many of the remaining students would be leaving that week as well to go back to their countries and loved ones. 

        The week went by. I assumed my duties as pack mule, dishwasher, exercise partner, washing machine, and maintenance man. I have gone on many walks; lugging my camera around looking for nice picture opportunities which I have not yet captured. Dennis and I have gone together to make sure the local pool has not gone out of business. We went again later in the week just to make sure. It would be a shame to neglect the sunlit tiles that surround the pool. When Thursday rolled around we made sure that all the remaining students knew to come to our apartment that night. We wanted to have a get-together and watch a movie. We had been entrusted with the projector of the church, and used it to our advantage; watching Despicable Me 2. We ended the night with the students by walking down to the Gelato place at the end of the street and treating them. We moved out of the Gelato shop and down the street to watch a street performer do his comedy act, then walked back to the apartment, said our goodbyes to the students, and joined the company of our pillows. 

        We have run into some of the street vendors that we used to talk to in years past. They are always excited to see us. I can only imagine what it would be like to sell things on the street. Imagine every day, going to work; sitting out in the heat with a piece of fabric spread out in front of you. All you have to offer is a bunch of cheap trinkets that you have to push on the tourist public so that you can make a meager wage. Every person that comes up to you wants to give you as little money as possible to get as much from you as they can. There is no casual talk, no joking, no smiles, only bartering and arguing over prices. I wonder what they go home to? Maybe they live in a tiny apartment that they have to share with other vendors from foreign countries who have to scrape a living. I wonder how many of them have families that are depending on the goods that they have to sell? What if they don't sell enough? I don't ever want to give one of those guys the impression that I don't care about them, or that they don't deserve a compliment or a smile, even just a happy face looking at them from across the Piazza. Who am I if I come just to get a bargain and exchange a few worthless coins, whose jingle is beginning to annoy me, for something I don’t even want. It really is unfortunate that I cant speak Italian. I know that God can use my smile, my poor attempt at Italian, and my actions to at least cause a glance in God’s direction. There is not a place on earth where a smile is not understood. 

        We have been on trips almost every day to go to the market, whether the open market, or the supermarket. The other day we were looking for a pair of beach towels so that we could manage to use a towel at the pool without requiring bleach to clean it. While Dennis and Karen moved through the shuffle of vendors and shoppers, I purchased a container of fresh olives and leaned against a metal post right in the middle of the fray. I watched many people as they moved around; bartering, shouting, laughing, glaring, meandering, motioning; there was no lack of movement. A man came up to me as I kept popping olives into my mouth. He stood right next to me and watched me for a second. I looked at him and gave him my curious look when he started to speak to me in Italian. What I got out of the 2 minutes of our conversation is that he wanted to eat one of my olives and have me take a picture of him doing it. I loved it. I offered the little container up to him and gestured him to take an olive by jutting it foreword. I raised my eyebrows and smirked to express my intention. He had a big smile on his face as he happily accepted an olive and proceeded to put it into his mouth so I could see it. I snapped my picture and the moment passed as he walked away with a smile. I turned my head and followed him with my eyes. Turning back, I thought to myself, “What just happened?!” Fun little moment. 

Uganda to Italy. -lots of text...

        I feel like I apologize quite often on my blog, either due to me mis-communicating something, or because I don't want people to feel like they NEED to read my stuff.. I love it when people read my blog, but personally I don't like to read when I have an overwhelming amount to read, and I don't expect anyone else to either. I also did a terrible job taking photos in Uganda this time..  so most of these are from 1 day in Naples.

        One of the most special things is having children sing happy birthday to me. Maybe someday I’ll be blessed with children that sing happy birthday to me. I cant wait for the day to hear that sweet sound, but God is sending special kids to sing for me even now. This must be the third time I have had the Lira children sing to me - starting to lose track. I love spending birthdays at home with family and friends, but there is something so special about spending it with these children. My birthday snuck up on me this time. I had an idea it was coming, but when it arrived it was subtle and sweet. I turned around to a crowd composed of my team and smiling child faces singing me happy birthday. A cake made by Amy Simonson, which is never a bad thing being a pastry chef and all, was brought out to me with a sparkler stuck in the top. It was stacked 3 layers high on a piece of cardboard with happy Birthday written on it in chocolate. It was more than I could handle so I was able to share it with the kids. Each child got their own cupcake. It was a wonderful last day. 

There are new people on our team every year, and every year we end up repeating mistakes. This time it was the goodbyes. We usually try not to make it a huge deal, yet for the first timers they don’t know it until they experience it. We were surrounded with crying children all the way back to our hotel. Leaving is so hard with tears. Still, It is very special because you can see the love that is saturating each streak running down their faces. Arriving back at the hotel we now had one more night in the Pauline and then it is off to the Red Chili Safari Camp. 

Last day winners of the Italy Camp.

Through puddles and thorn bushes our bus bounced. Branches raking down the side of the bus reminded those who had their windows open not to get too comfortable. The muggy temperature inside the bus forced the windows open. We drove along the fertile Victoria Nile delta as it flows into Lake Albert. The occasional Jackson’s Hartebeest, Waterbuck, or Uganda Cob would venture in front of the bus’s path. Giraffe’s, Warthogs, and Elephants would grace our sight often. I cant say that any of them particularly wanted to be around us; we were offered extended viewings of their rear-ends as they would casually walk away. Occasionally they would pause with a curious look back to see if we were still there, or to try and figure out what we were. We pulled up to a stop at the point of the delta and got off the bus for a quick stretch and bathroom break. It was a beautiful area where dragonflies looked like butterflies and seemed to be everywhere giving life to the ground. The hippos stayed just below the surface of the water, leaving only their eyes above; watching in intrigue. A lonely African Buffalo stood just close enough to feel threatened and started to flee, stopping just a few meters later; turning around to stand his ground. We eventually waited him out and he moved on. It was a beautiful place to be for the time. The Girls all took gobs of pictures and then we piled back on the bus. 

The bus bounced down the red dirt road riddled with wash-outs. The clearance of the bus was just enough to clear them, but not enough to power over them at significant speeds. This caused a problem because every time the bus slowed down, the swarm of Tsetse flies would catch up and begin assaulting the bus. Any window that is open is a threat. The flies are quite aggressive; you definitely know when you get bit. It was a half fun, half serious game of now you see me, now you don’t as we opened and closed the windows. As the bus would slow, the chorus of windows slamming shut was almost making music in my ear. The swarms of flies would latch onto the windows; waiting to get in and have a little afternoon snack.  We pulled into the safari camp just before dusk, ordered our supper, and waited out the night in our tents and bandas. 

The following day we enjoyed two nile boat rides with a gap in the middle for a little nap. I love the boat rides. I have already seen everything on these rides, but there is something about being on a boat. As it moves up river to the foot of the immense Merchison Falls, it pushes over debris and foam churned up by the raging torrent. Crocodiles and Hippos litter the banks of the river occasionally getting into the water to feed on the dead fish that are spit out of the crashing water. When I look at the falls I cant help but think of a blender. The power of the water can not be captured on a picture or even a video. It is something that you can only appreciate by physically being there; hearing the deep pounding of the water crashing on the rocks, feeling the constant vapor on your face, and seeing the near-entirety of the Victoria Nile disappearing into this hole in the earth that spits the water almost as high as where it started. There is zero chance of survival in this deathtrap. Fortunately, the destructive power of this is contained by two giant rocks walls that guard either side of the water.

Our trip out of the Safari camp always is accompanied by a visit to the top of these falls where you can experience the raw power of God’s creation. I was constrained by time. I had a 5:25pm flight that was departing from Entebbe, which was causing the team’s last day in Uganda to be rushed. Robert was worried that I would not have enough time to get to the airport. Last trip I was late to my flight and it caused a 24 hour delay to my schedule and a $300 hit to my bank account. When we got up to the falls that morning for our last nature experience of the trip, we came back to the bus to find Robert fixing a flat tire. He told us that we were going to need to stop in Masindi, which was still about 250 kilometers away from Kampala. Time was disappearing more and more each time I glanced at the old school digital clock mounted on the front of the bus. We called ahead and scheduled Jessy, one of our interpreters, to pick me up just before we entered Kampala and to take me on the “back road rush” to the airport. We arrived at the meeting point and I quickly had to say my goodbyes to the team as I was tossed out of the bus and into a car. We quickly drove to the airport; passing cars with minimal tolerances. I took a look in my bag and realized I had forgot my phone and my shoes on the bus. I quickly scribbled out some notes for Jessy to take back to the team to inform them what to do with the things that I had forgotten. I eventually arrived at the airport with time to spare. God got me where I needed to go, and Jessy returned to meet up with the team and deliver my messages. 

The wonderful; regional train.

I squeezed my pillow into the space between my backpack strap and my ribs, then leaned to one side as I shuffled single file between the seats of first class on my way to Economy. The line came to a stop as I shifted my weight and studied the upholstery of the chairs. I wondered if it would ever be worth the price... Maybe if I were Shaq. I saw some pretty out of place faded Harley Davidson tattoos while I stood examining this “Luxury” space. Tattoos of barbed wire, a fu manchu, and a cut off shirt decorated a man who sat in the seat. His hair was greased back as he studied a stapled document on the tray table in front of him. I studied his face and immediately recognized him; Machine-gun Preacher. He looked up at me as I looked him over. We made eye contact, so I smiled and asked him how he was. I couldn't really tell what he said back to me, but it was some sort of reply to acknowledge I was standing there looking at him. Who else would be wearing a cut-off with harley tattoos sitting in first class in the Uganda Airport? I decided he probably is bothered far too often these days and I didn't want to be that guy. I had no confirmation as to who he was, but just sat back in economy wondering if it was in fact him. The man who sat next to me had a funny conversation with the flight attendant and scurried up to the front of the plane. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a grin on his face like a little kid that had just discovered what he was getting for Christmas. I gave him an inquisitive look when he showed me the picture that he had just taken with the Machine Gun Preacher. 

I thought quickly about how I can get my phone out and take a picture with him too, when I realized that my Uganda phone was left on the bus, and my American Phone was dead; deep in my check-in bag... surrounded by a hundred other check-in bags somewhere in the bowels of the plane. Instead I just folded the little story up and tucked it in my brain so that I could unfold it later. I opened a borrowed book, and started to read. 

The flight from Entebbe to Addis Ababa was a quick one; it always is. I have this deep annoyance with this airport but I am finding that it is starting to disappear. Yes, there is absolutely no organization. This is easy one to see when the entire plane crowds around one flight worker with a HUGE stack of paper containing all the departure information, or when all the reader boards, instead of playing flight departure and arrival times are playing advertisements for contraceptives. I sat down in a chair over by where I was told my flight would be departing from. I sat trying to type while smelling a very strong cigarette smoke. I figured it out really quick. They have sectioned off the smokers into their own designated smoking area. It is right inside the terminal with walls that don't go up to the ceiling and is in no way vented to the outside. I bet they actually have a little fan that is blowing it all in front of my face. Too bad this is the only seat that isn't occupied by someone wearing a burka. I used my pillow to speed up time and found myself waking up off and on yet, just about a half hour my indicated boarding time. I looked at the only screen displaying flight info, yet didn't see any flight that indicated Rome. I did see a flight with my flight number that said it was going to Milan, I chuckled and thought to myself, “at least I can land in Italy.” I went to check with the information desk to see what was going on. The woman looked at my ticket with the usual manner airport workers do all things. She said, “Oh, they are boarding now you need to hurry to gate 8.” I was surprised because my ticket had told me that I still had a solid half hour before boarding would even begin, and everyone I spoke to told me that I was to board on gate 2. She took my ticket and ripped it right down the middle. She printed a new crisp ticket off for me and handed it to me, telling me to hurry. I looked at the ticket; the boarding time had been moved up by one hour. I frantically shuffled across the entire terminal building in my flip flops to get to the correct gate. I had one security checkpoint that was flooded with people. I ashamedly cut in front of everyone and slipped my things into the x-ray machines. I shuffled some more to a man in a uniform that was being ripped apart by a complaining customer; cautiously interrupting to see if this was, in fact, the correct gate. He pointed to Gate 7 and told me to move quickly. By this time I was joined by several other people who shared this situation with me. They were all asking me what they needed to do, so I just had them follow me. My small group scurried down some stairs to a bus where we were driven to a plane which was already loaded with people. My ticket was for seat 37A which is the very back seat in the plane where the leg room is reduced by about 3 inches compared to all the others... and the seats don't recline. It is a good thing that God made me this size, because my brothers would have died. I looked at my seat to find a little Indian girl sitting with her mother. Across the aisle there was an empty row of vacant seats. I slid into those seats instead and hoped those people settled in my seats could stay there. The time came and went. I found myself in a row completely empty on a ridiculously crowded plane. I laid down across the seats just after the seat belt light turned off and started to snooze. I woke up once for the airplane meal, and then again to the flight attendant telling me that I needed to sit upright for landing. It was the best flight I have ever had; 5 hours that seemed like 30 minutes. It seemed everything was going wrong with Ethiopian Airlines again, however someone messed up and actually gave me a bonus instead. 

Main Rome train station

I arrived in Rome with plenty of time and walked through customs. I had an officer who must have either been tired, or really liked the dark. He sat in a dark booth and stuck his hand out for my passport. I handed him the passport already open to the correct page. He graced me with a half second glance at my picture and closed it handing it back to me. He then put his head down and waited for the next person in line. I moved to baggage collection and waited for the machine to be turned on. I started to doze off as the buzzer sounded; telling everyone, “get away from the machine, it is going to start moving.” I collected my bag and sat just outside next to the currency exchange booth so that I could get some cash to pay for my train to Naples. I ended up waiting for a good 45 more minutes in the airport. 

I eventually made it on the shuttle train to the main Rome train station. Once I got there I found the ticket machine, and started to browse the different options to get me to Naples before Noon. I had been communicating with Tony Aruta via Facebook once in a while. I happened to get on just before I boarded my plane from Uganda and verified with him the time I would be at the Naples train station. I had no idea, really so I took a shot in the dark; aiming for noon. Having absolutely no form of communication I just wanted to make sure my train arrived before this time in Naples. I sat and waited around for the train to leave and took the opportunity to go into one of their Cafe Express shops and order up a nice cappuccino; I love to order them here, they are so delicious. I put my headphones in and zoned out for a while before boarding the train to Naples. 

I arrived in Naples and moved in front of the main station where I sat and watched the sea of southern Italians kiss and shout at each other. I love seeing reunions, I think the Italians have perfected the reunion greetings, especially when it is a couple. There were beggars, drunkards, and every day people. I had a guy come up and beg me to buy a lighter from him. I told him, “I don't smoke”, which is usually an easy out. This is when the “I have a child and a wife I am trying to provide for” comes out. I really doubt he did, but I gave him a few Euros and told him to take it. He wanted me to take a lighter, so I told him to sell it to someone else and make more to provide for his family. He didn't really know what to do with me, but as he went around and hustled everyone else, occasionally we would make eye contact. I would put my fingers to my mouth, kiss them, turn them towards him, and flick the kiss to him like I am trying to flick water after a hand wash. I learned that from the Italian boys at camp; it is what they all do to me. He would smile, catch it in the air, and hold it to his chest as he walked by. 

Noon struck, and I was soon approached by Genny Russo. Genny is one of the boys from the camp that I have bonded with over the last 3 years. He is a good friend. He tries so hard to communicate with me, and wishes he could speak English, but I know how the motivation to learn stops when you are not with foreigners any more. I wish I could speak Italian! I love him and he loves me even though we fumble through our various hand gestures and broken sentences in each other’s languages. I left the station walking with Genny when he received new instructions for me on the phone. We turned around and I had to buy a new train ticket that would take me out to Caserta, which is where Doug and Diana Valenzuela would be waiting for me at the train station. This is right next to the Veccio Mulino. I said my quick goodbye to Genny and got back on the train. 

The train came squealing up to the station with a wine that sounded like ring wraiths from Lord of the Rings. I have been to this station before. Last year I had another exciting story to tell about the Caserta Station. Long story short, we were heading there from Rome and completely missed it, ending up on the east coast of Italy. I got off, dragging my bag behind me. The muggy atmosphere encouraged the drops to form on my already shiny forehead. There was a very mild breeze that comforted me some as I walked down the stairs to the underpass below the train tracks. I walked out the front door of the station and quickly scanned the scene for Doug. I could not remember what their car looked like, but I wanted to be sure and catch him before he snuck up on me with one of his humiliating public outbursts. I found no one. Standing in the door of the train station I saw a building which looked to me like a palace. Wanting to go and check it out, I crossed the street while trying to stay in view of the train station. I knew that Doug and D were coming to get me. I could not get a good view of the palace from where I was at and had to turn around. Diana eventually drove up to the station and waved me down. I hopped in the car, greeted her and drove off to the Old Mill. I had not thought about where Doug and Diana were going to be when I arrived early. They have 3 successive weeks of youth camps at the old mill. They start with the young children, then the lower teens, then the college age people. They were running their camp, which meant I would not be able to stay at their house, so they brought me to the camp. I have never been to a camp other than mine. I am in the background watching the other kids interact with a team from California. I thought our age level was immature, but this team has a whole new category of children in terms of energy, maturity, and hormones. While the team is working with the children, I have taken the opportunity to get up to speed on the dirty clothing situation in my bag (which is rapidly getting out of hand). Diana and I went into town where I purchased some detergent, came back, and I washed my clothes. The sink was filled with that beautiful red and brown earth tone which makes me think so fondly of Africa. Since Lira, I have been exposed to ridiculous amounts of dust, which is now probably sitting in the P-trap of the sink here. I have been given a top bunk in the American’s sleeping area. I have to say that the musty stench that comes from the boys room is a little more than I can take. While they have been out working with the kids, I have been arranging the fans and moving old wet towels out of the room. It was like a smelly locker room that has been heated; moist, warm, stinky, messy, disgusting.... I walk in and feel a pair of hands formed in vapor; smelling like a sweaty, three times worn sock wrapping around my neck to choke the life out of me. I figured out a way to get some circulation in the room. I should survive the night if I can keep the mosquitos off my back. We really do have it good in America; every where else I go mosquitos plague my sleep, yet there is something about it that I love. 

This is my yard work carnage.

After a few hours of sitting and observing this camp, I decided to approach Doug and D and inquire if they had something I could do for them. Doug jumped on it and gave me a list of problems to fix at the Old Mill. While the children and the Americans have been doing their games, I have been climbing around in trees with a chainsaw, wading through thorn bushes with a weed-eater, and repairing leaky pipes and broken things... all without a shirt, of course. My lips have been pursed almost constantly for the last 2 days deflecting copious amounts of flying debris. My Ray Bans have become safety glasses and my socks have been serving as some sort of sponge for dirt, rocks, twigs, grass, and seed pods. Between the sweat, thorn bush pulp, and saw dust, I have been managing to desperately require a shower before every meal. In Africa I would get a little dusty, but here was no real requirement to be clean for mealtime. The Italian kids look like they are on their way to prom for their lunch and dinner meals. I have cleared probably 5 or 6 truck loads of brush and tree limbs. I had to drag most of the tree limbs off somewhere in the back property of the mill. Some are being used for a bonfire this evening, and most of the brush got mulched up with the metal blade I rigged up on their weed-eater. It feels good to be dirty and not care about it. This could easily be a full time job for someone. I feel like I haven't made a dent.

Dennis and the rest of my camp team arrived in Naples today. I got to talk to him on the phone for the first time in the last month. The big question was, “Am I going to meet up with the team in Naples?” I would if he wanted me to. I haven’t spent a whole lot of time with my team, but I do know everyone on the team in some way. I decided I would stay at the old mill and wait for them to come in tomorrow. No sense in heading into Naples to stay the night at a hotel with them when they are more than likely just going to sleep. Perhaps the money that we save by not paying for an extra person can go into getting me a pair of running shoes?  ...since I left mine on the bus in Kampala. This way I can do a few more things for this team as they say goodbye to the Italian kids they have been working with for the last week.

Fabiana got a shower!

The team caught up to me. They came out to the camp the same day Douglas’s team left. There was about an hour of overlap. All the girls from the younger camp were crying because there was an American on the team that they all were all in love with. We spent the first night here at the camp, were met by some old friends at the mill, and all went out to dinner at a local Pizza place. I was sitting at the long table with everyone when Elton John started being played. Everyone was excited about the familiar sound, when we noticed that Dennis was gone. I turned around and realized that it was Dennis singing Karaoke..  The whole place went silent and watched him. He had quite an applause at the end. I had a pizza called an “Antigua” It was topped with Arugula, corn, and Parmesan Cheese. I had one of the Italians recommend something to me. It was actually very good. We returned to the camp to find that the water to the mill had been turned off. For some reason there are 3 cities that had been cut off from the water main. I heard that there was a leak somewhere that had to be fixed, so for a day and a half we conserved water. During church the next day they made an announcement to the youth that camp was going to be delayed for a day. After church, I drove the team back out to the mill for lunch. I took a nap, then some of us went to a shopping center where I tried to look for a new pair of shoes to replace the ones I left in Africa. The store was great, it was the size of a Target, but was all sports equipment and much cheaper than any of the other stores that I had gone into. I ended up getting some shoes that I have never heard of, and getting a little something extra special on the side; a Speedo.

Some of our people started showing up in the evening, so we decided to start it up with our schedule. We started off with dinner, then moved into playing an evening game where everyone had clothes pins and had to clip their pins onto people without them noticing. The goal is to be left with no pins on you. Amy then taught the Italians some basic dance moves that we all did to a song. I think it may have been Zumba, but I dont know for sure since I am probably the last person that would sign up for something like that on my own. The night ended with the Italians going to bed around 1:30. 

Notice; mostly Americans using Italians as target practice.

Our schedule has begun to resemble some form of planned thing. We usually plan each day with games, crafts, and themes for dinner. The Italians have been divided into four teams with Americans spread evenly among them. I was originally an official, but have been called into service due to a few injuries on the American squad. Jonathan got kicked in the ankle and had to ice it. He may return at some point, but for now is a spectator. Dennis has been having some problems with his back, and has bowed out of all physical exertion. Lastly, Chrystal has been having some problems (probably my fault) and has had to take a break from sports. One of the teams started with 4 boys on it; John, Pasquale (Italian), Luka (Italian), and Nico (Italian). Pasquale had to leave after the first day because of work. John got an injury, and Luca hadn't showed up yet, so they were getting stomped by all the other teams. I became Pasquale/John while I waited for Luca to show up. The Italians are pretty good at Soccer, and are very good at stealing the ball from me. I have realized that out of 10, I am about a 3 when it comes to controlling where I can kick the ball. I feel like a zombie sometimes when I am running after the ball. We play both soccer and Volleyball back to back, then the “Bar” is opened and we can all go buy Soda, Juice, Ice Cream, or whatever they have to sell. When they say “Bar”, they dont mean what naturally comes to our minds. “Bar” is associated with coffee, generally. 

We went into Caserta today. All the Italians and Americans loaded into several vans and cars and caravanned around some windy and beautifully shaded corners. The landscape of Italy is so wonderful in and out of the city. The Americans love it; the Italians are sick of it. We drove into a place that looked like it was a Palace at one time. It sat up on a hillside and overlooked the city. It looked like many of the places in Italy look; formerly a place of pride and beauty that had fallen into disrepair and ruin. The plants slowly start to reclaim the structures and the courtyards that are beautifully tiled and adorned with monuments and statues. All the places are quiet. Every now and then I see an old Italian lady or gentleman walking his or her groceries home, stopping periodically in the shade of an awning or tree to catch their breath. I wish I had little camera shutters built into my eyes. Cameras never seem to catch the beauty quite like you see it in person. We stopped into a small cafe where one of the Italians hurried in and ordered all the Americans pastries and cold water. We sat in the shade of the old building; huddled around a crooked little table talking about how beautiful it is here and how fortunate we are to be here with the Italians. We returned to the old mill and filled the picnic tables that occupy the the shade of the large trees. 

Instructions for the relay race.

This morning some of our team members were feeling helpless; having to sit on the sidelines and not be able to play with the Italians. It seems that so much focus in missions is the project. I know it has seemed that way in Africa at times, and though there is no construction project here, it brings the same feeling. Our project is our schedule, our games, our themes, and playing sports. The bigger opportunity is not what we can bring physically, but it is the conversations that we have; the encouragement and the affirmation that we can provide them by being ambassadors of our God who loves them.  Times suck in Italy right now. When they leave this camp, they go back to the hopeless, jobless, economy that has crippled this place. The mill is a sanctuary, it is peace, it is rejuvenation, and reformation for many of the girls and boys that come. To some it is the open door and invitation to get more from life than just working for a living; it is an invitation to truly live and to have security during a time of fear and uncertainty. If you want something you can help me pray for, then pray for the Italians. Pray that they have security in God; knowing that this life is not the end, but there is something more; something worth living for, and something that they have every reason to take great joy in. It is something that will remove the despair and hopelessness that has plagued this place. You do not wear a parachute to make a flight comfortable, you wear it to rescue you from the fall. Jesus did not die so that we could be comfortable here, he died to rescue us from the fall; that is the peace and comfort that brings the joy. We don’t need to worry; we are secure with Christ. 

Projects and Children

Jump rope with the girls.

Lira has been wonderful. I have taken my camera out for the second time, and actually took more than 10 photos. All the girls on the trip are really good photographers, so I have been mildly intimidated to bust mine out. I have to laugh because I look at my camera and I have taken it through the ringer. 3 times to Italy, 8 times to Africa, 2 broken lenses, broken plates, and lost pieces. I remember for the longest time I had a pice of tape on the bottom to keep dust from going into it while I was in Africa. I would tell everyone that I was putting the tape on there as a theft deterrent; no one wants to steal a camera that is taped together. It was really actually holding it together. I eventually replaced the plate, but I bet there is more dust in there than you would find under a refrigerator. still, it takes quite nice photos... Its all in the eye anyways. 

Gene and Eddie are machines, they have been digging like crazy, and constantly asking me what they can be doing. The girls have been doing a great job with the children and the Mums devotionals in the morning. I have been very impressed with everyone. Amy has been sharing her testimony, which has been very difficult for her. I am proud of her for being so strong. We have been doing bible classes with the children where we touch on being a child of God, being free from sin forever, how God listens to us, how God heals our hearts. The children get out of school so late that if we start the lessons we would not finish before dark. So, we have been given permission to pull the children out of school early for two days. We send Robert over to the school, and have him pick up the children on the bus. 

Stephanie Davis took a great picture I had to share. 

I remember being young; standing on the side of the road with my brothers and sisters waiting for the bus. We would complain about how the bus took so long to get us to school. When I see how much these children light up when they talk about getting on a bus to come home from school it makes me feel, again, like I have been spoiled by the world. How many times can I be taught this lesson? How can I better appreciate everything that God has blessed me with? I did walk to school some when I was little, but I have never been so excited to just be on a bus as these children are. How different we are when a simple ride in a vehicle is the high point of our day. In conversation I would ask them how their day was, and they would say, “I had a good day, I rode the bus from school”. Never would I have said that. Bringing that rabbit trail back, we did a back to back teaching on saturday so that we could finish the curriculum this week without taking the children out of school early more than two days.

Today was Sunday, We had church with the kids out in the shade of one of the houses. Bruce talked about keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus and spoke about when Jesus walked on water to catch up with the disciples. Peter wanted to walk out to him, and Jesus told him to come, but when he came close his eyes went off of Jesus and he began to sink. “Do you sometimes take your eyes off God? When you take your eyes off God, what happens? You sink.” We rolled the church time into another lesson from our curriculum. Afterward, some of the team went back to the hotel to freshen up, and change out of their church clothes. When everyone came back we got to spend some time with the children. Again, I got to take out my camera and snap some shots. I did some things here and there, but for the most part, Sunday was Sunday and everyone enjoyed each other’s company. I called my friend Urs Klauser from “God Helps Uganda” and invited him over so that I could say hi. It was very nice to talk to him. I was able to give him a card for Engineering Missionaries International so that he could use them for some engineering. Around 2:00pm we started gearing up for distributing clothes to the children. There was some stress and some heat in the back room as clothes were getting figured out. Knowing which kids are in which homes is always a challenge, but the girls took care of most.... all the work for that. The boys found some other stuff to do. 

Sharon with her nails freshly painted.

Our pit latrines are moving exceptionally slowly.  Having Henry as our foreman is nice, but he can be a little distracted.  We have contracted him to dig the Pit Latrine, but at the pace he and his workers are going, it will not be finished by the time we are gone.  Dr. Peter came by to see us and mentioned that he knew people who could dig through the ground that we are chipping through much faster than our crew is, and would be happy to bring them if we wanted. I told him that he needed to talk to Henry to see if that would be okay.  Turns out Henry contracted with the men who are digging right now, and he says that we would still have to pay the full amount on their contract if we decided not to use them.  So the dilemma becomes, do we let the slow workers slug it out and leave the project for Henry to finish after we are gone?  Or do we bring bigger guys in, complete the work on time and pay a little more money?  Since we donated $2,000.00 dollars of our budget unexpectedly in Seta on the pump, we are starting to feel the pocket strings tighten a little.  I know that God will work it out.  I told Dr. Peter to bring his guys, and will try to reason with Henry tomorrow.

What a wonderful concept. 

We brought on our new guys. When they showed up, one of the existing workers went to report them to the labor bureau. I didn't know they had a labor bureau... I had Henry call them off so that we could work out the situation. I reasoned with hem and decided we would pay them 12,000 shillings per day for their work instead of the contracted stone pit of death. The new workers work very hard and take less breaks than the last guys. Peter told us not to pay them too much because they are drunks; they will just spend it on alcohol. Bruce goes out every day and gives them some of his jerky and dried fruit to give them a little protein and sugar. We made sure that they had good drinking water, and even gave them goggles so they don't get a ton of rocks in their eyes. They have been chipping out the rock for the last few days and are almost to 5 feet. They told us that once we get to 3 feet, it would be dirt, and then it was 4 feet. Now it is 5 feet; still ridiculous hard rock. This is proving to be a hard pit for them to dig. The other workers we have been using to fill in low places in the orphanage, and transplanting grass. Gene has been keeping them busy in his own quest to stay as busy as possible; which reminds me, could you please pray that everything goes smoothly for his company back home? Seems that everything goes wrong when he leaves. 

We purchased several trees. I made a stop at the nursery that I had visited three months ago and bought more Avocado, Orange, Mango, Papaya, Guava, and Lemon trees. I must have had about 30 trees in all. We decided that we would have the children and the Mums have a huge part in planting them. It was really quite fun. When we have our small group time with the kids, we decided to split off and let the children dig the holes, and plant the trees. When they were finished, I had each of the children touch a leaf of the tree, and close their eyes as I prayed that it would grow strong, tall, and that it would bear much fruit. 

Trees ready for planting

We have had another water tower built with a 1500 liter tank placed on it where the elevation is the greatest. We dug trench and laid pipe throughout the orphanage running back down to the kitchen. there are now two hand-washing stations, one where the new pit latrines are, and where the older bathrooms are. We finished it today, filling the tank and testing the lines. Francis the cook now has a tap with a hose that can reach all of his stoves. 

We have replaced all the broken windows at the orphanage. Some of the panes have been fractured for a long time. When I was here building the Wall, I took measurements for all the windows. The plan was to replace all the broken windows with plexi-glass. but we ended up only being able to replace a few with that. We went into town and found a glass supplier and gave him dimensions for new windows and had him cut single pane windows. Gene, Bruce, and Agri (one of the first orphans from a CLM orphanage) went around re-glazing the windows in place. 

Bruce helping Mum Tabitha plant a tree.

We have now decided to jump into another project. In the uppermost corner where our new water tower is, we decided to make a boys bathing area. The Mums have been complaining that they boys are not bathing, so we are on a mission to make the boys want to bathe. We poured a pad of concrete that has a nice easy slope which we will section off with brick walls that are chest level. I am actually fascinated with outdoor showers. I think there is something about bathing outside that feeds my soul. I have done a fair amount of it, but never during the day. If I could be guaranteed a mosquito free outdoor bathing experience, I think I would do it more often, but it is what it is. We are hoping that the boys will want to bathe more now that they have a nice area to bathe. 

Our children’s ministry has been good, I have a group of boys that are a little timid, so getting them to talk is always a challenge, but I love them so much I don't care. I love it when they talk to me even if it is so little. We have been making crafts, and helping them fill our their memory books. 

I have to apologize for not sending more updates. This has been a very different trip for me. I didn't know specifically why God sent me this time. God has used me, but I have not felt as useful as I always seem to feel. God is revealing it to me very slowly. I can’t underestimate the impact that coming back over and over has on the children. If for no other specific purpose, that purpose alone is more than enough. 

Seta, Soroti, and Lira

I may have caused a problem.  In posting a comment on Facebook, I may have given the impression that CLM has done nothing to fix the problem surrounding the water pump. To clear that up; I will explain.

   
             Two months ago when I was just about to leave Uganda after I built the wall in Lira, I was told about the pump not working.  Some of you may remember what I wrote about that.  When I left I called Betty and told her that I could not fix it; she needed to call in a technician to fix the problem.  She assured me that she would call them, and I headed to the airport believing that this would be true.  Betty is a woman of her word and  accomplishes an incredible amount of work in a day.  She did call the the company who installed the pump to service it, and they did.  She told me that they came out several times to the orphanage.  When they finally gave Betty an explanation of what happened, they told her that the pump had burnt up due to the water table being too low. If this were true, then replacing the pump in the borehole would be useless.  If this were true, there would also be dead plants everywhere, and there would certainly not be a swamp on the bottom of the CLM property.

As you can imagine, it takes a long time to get things accomplished in Uganda.  When they gave Betty the diagnosis, it was about time for our team to return.  CLM by no means was sitting down letting the pump be broken for two months, they were actively seeking a solution to the problem.  I decided to post a picture of the jugs lined up waiting for the dirty city water which may have implications that CLM didn't do anything in the last two months, and were okay with the pump not working.  This is not true.  This was simply an attempt to make those who have supported me know that their donations are making a difference. 

Here is the Real diagnosis on the pump:

             When Davis and Shirtliff originally installed the pump they may have placed it a tad bit low in the borehole; putting it in range for gravel to stir and suck into the impeller.  This will happen when the pump is initially turned on for pumping by creating immediate flow. We know this because when we pulled the pump up we could see the rocks in the impeller. 

Davis and Shirtliff told me that the spikes in the voltage had warn on the pump and eventually was the cause of the motor failure, not the rocks in the impeller. They think this due to the fact that both a capacitor, and the regulator were spoiled on the circuit breaker. 

On Friday they came out to the orphanage, and brought the new pump with the new motor attached, the new voltage regulator, and the circuit panel with the new parts already installed. I helped them down to the location of the borehole and helped them pull the pipe out of the borehole so that we could re-attach the pump. After this I went back up to help out with container un-packing. The time drew near for the pump to be turned on. I had my phone out and ready to record a video of the water gushing out of the pipe to update everyone. 1 minute turned into 5, 5 into 30, 30 into the rest of the night. Our team left the orphanage and retuned to the hotel while the Davis and Shirtliff boys remained at the orphanage trying to fix the problem. I was called to inform me that they would be going back out to the orphanage on saturday morning to continue with the installation of the pump. 

  Today, I received a call from my man Ivan at Davis and Shirtliff saying that they had discovered a new problem with the system; The pump has been spoiled because rocks had lodged themselves into the impeller of the pump and had spoiled it. These are not round rocks, these are small shale slivers of rock from when we had the well dug with a drill rig. they are small and sliver-like making them react much more with an introduction of a drastic flow. The call was to inform me that we now, not only had to buy a new motor, but a new pump as well. 

Gene fixing some leaks in the tower

             When we had pulled the pipe from the borehole, we saw water on the pipe at around 30 meters, which means that we have around 60 meters of water in the borehole. Whoever told CLM that the water table was too low must have been really lazy; not wanting to do the work. 

Drawing this report to a close, The pump was destroyed due either to rock in the impeller, or voltage spikes. A new pump is needed, and replacement parts on the Panel. We did not anticipate this being a problem during our trip, so this is added on to the amount of things that we wanted to get accomplished. The bill was not accounted for in our budget, so we are actually hoping that someone would like to sponsor the fix. The total cost is around $2,000.00. We ended up paying for the pump with our team money, so we are now $2,000 down from what we need. 

Picture taking with the secondary students

             We had a great day today at the secondary school. I got an opportunity to speak about being a child of God from Romans 8:14-17. I came up with creative ways to relate to the children, speaking from the relationship that I had with my father. What does a child of God look like? How was my relationship with my father? I wanted to be like him. I wanted to do what he did. I wanted to go where he went. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to love me. Because God calls those who have accepted his son his children, he adopted us; he adopted me. When I made that decision, I became Royalty. I now share blood with the King. I have nothing to fear. If you had the President as your father when you were a child, do you think that you would fear very much? Do you think that you would feel safe? Just imagine what being a child of God would do for you. Who would you fear? Who could harm you?

  When you make a decision like that you must understand that Jesus said things would be hard for you. He said in this life, the world will hate you because of me, but remember it hated me first. He did not promise riches and blessings, he promised persecution and trouble. Being a child of God is an eternal thing. You may never get anything from it in this life. 

  I spoke about inheritance. Your inheritance is from the Lord of the Universe, the King of Kings; the one who created the world. Im sure that I would be confident if my father invented the iPhone; he would be loaded with cash! What then could you say about the person who created the world? God’s inheritance is bigger than you can imagine. 

  We finished distributing our clothing from the container, and cleaned it out to prepare it for the School’s use. They spoke of using the container as a computer Lab. We allowed them to show us where to place it, and how to orient it. During our last day, we moved up to one of our older containers and grabbed pencils, pens, notebooks, pencil sharpeners, dictionaries, flash cards, erasers, crayons, markers, rulers, story books, and bibles. We began to move around in a systematic manner and distribute those items to the homes as best we could. We figure that these items were not donated to sit in a container, they were donated to give to the children so they could be used. When we began, the children were still in school. It was relatively easy to move freely and distribute the items. As the children started to come home from school, a crowd began to form around us and made it very difficult to work. They were buzzing with excitement as we would approach their homes. I remember more than a few occasions tripping over some of them as I would try to sift through them to get our gifts into their homes. They were all so happy. We distributed all of the pencils and bibles as best we could until we had cleaned out the container of all the supplies that had been waiting since last year to be distributed. Gene is amazing. Brittany is a liar.

We had our last day in Seta and began our trip north to Lira quite early in the morning. The road from Seta to Soroti was one of the worst roads in Uganda. It took us 8 hours to travel what in the USA would take us maybe an hour and a half. After a long day on the bus we arrived in Soroti at the house of Rachael and Daniel Graham. Daniel is a Vet serving the people of Karamojo, which is one of the less advanced regions in Uganda. These people actually still war with their neighbors, they believe that all cattle in the world belong to them and will raid other tribes stealing their cattle. This is still a much feared region of Uganda, yet the Grahams have a ministry deep in the region where they can spread the gospel to them by helping them care for their animals. 

We spent 1 night with them. We walked into the city and walked through the market. Several of the team members purchased loose leaf black tea from the dark, aromatic, and ridiculously crowded shopping bowels of Soroti. I think they will be quite pleased with the quality of the tea. We walked back to a restaurant near their house and all sat down to have BBQ pork. I usually would not recommend eating pork in a 3rd world country, but this place is rad and is wonderfully delicious. They skewer pieces of pork that was well seasoned and barbeque them. The skewers are actually bicycle spokes and they would call it “Spork”.

We stayed the night in their guest house, which was actually quite nice. People were all over the place. The girls were in two different rooms, and the boys were stuffed into one. Robert actually had a sleeping pad set in the kitchen. I was on the floor in the “Boy’s” room with a mosquito net dangled over me. I distinctly remember waking up in the morning to a cockroach climbing between my neck and pillow. After I sprung up and flipped around, I batted at the pillow, trying to wipe the cockroach off the mat and out of my mosquito net. I came to realize that somehow that was a psychedelic mirage brought on by the Doxycyclene. It was actually little bill: a kitten that Daniel and Racheal rescued  and was batting at my feet through the mosquito net. Either way, I was awake from the adrenaline brought on my the cockroach mirage and was now just waiting until the rest of the team woke up. We all went the the clinic where Daniel works and had a devotional with his team and concluded our visit. 

Store where we purchased our digging tools in Lira

The drive from Soroti to Lira is actually the best road in Uganda and only took us an hour and a half to travel almost the same distance as before. We arrived in Lira and stopped into the Pauline Hotel. It was really very good to be back. It really felt like I was coming home. After staying in Lira for 2 months, I didn't realize how connected I had gotten to the people that live and work here. It was so good to see them. We dropped our luggage off at the hotel and made our way to the orphanage. All of the children were in school, but it was so good to come back after I had left so early in the morning two months before. The Mums were so happy to see me; the feeling was mutual. They came running up to me and gave me big hugs. I had forgotten much of the greetings that I had learned while I was here, but they have been slowly coming back to me. The kids started to show up from school, and I tried to give each one of them a nice big hug. One of the Mums started to tell me about the day I went back home. She said, “when the children began to wake up, they started to say, ‘Where is Adam?’”. I felt bad for leaving so quiet that night, but it was a sweet reunion when we got there. 

Water trench going up to the new water tower

We have now started our construction projects here in Lira. Gene and Eddie have been chomping at the bit like work-horses to start into some real physical work. While we were in Seta we didn’t have a whole lot to do, but now that we are here in Lira, there is digging. Everyone seems to love serving by digging. I could barely get into the orphanage the next morning before Gene and Eddie had the digging tools out and were ripping into the ground. We had a crew show up to start digging the pit for the pit latrine. We have made a decision to get away from the modern flushing systems that Americans love to build, and go back to a big hole under a few slabs of concrete. We decided to dig it in a place that I have dug in before. It is basically the highest point in the orphanage. It just so happens that you go 1 foot into the ground and you run into some kind of lava flow. Henry, whom I have offered the work to, was sure to tell me that this is possible with the use of salt water. He said that it would break down the hard composition of the stone and make digging much easier. “You will see”, he said. They think the pit should be somewhere around 25 feet deep when they are finished. Not even kidding. TWENTY FIVE FEET. That is a hole 3 feet wide, 15 feet long, and 25 feet deep; hand dug. Your not getting me near that thing, talk about a death trap. Gene, Eddie, and I were able to finish around 400’ of trench (with a little help from the girls) that will send water up to the same corner where we are building the latrines. 

Pit Latrine

This is the highest point of the property; where the water pressure will be the greatest. This water will supply the kitchen and provide a spigot on the other side of the orphanage. This is not going to be filtered water, but the children understand this water is not for drinking. It is used for cooking only because the water is always boiled when cooking. 

The day drew to a close as the children all gathered around and sang praise and worship. Oh yeah, thats the sound that I love...