Yesterday I went to school. Today I went to prison. Who knows what tomorrow will bring!
We never really know what will come for us, but what I have come to see in Uganda, and in Kenya as well, is a hope that is really the source of energy for life here.
Life in prison here is about as hopeless as I can imagine. For starters, more than half (sometimes MUCH more) of the inmates are here on remand, awaiting a trial or even a chance to appear before a judge. Only a small portion of the prison populations actually been convicted. The wait can be very long – months, or even years. The conditions are basic, with very limited food, close accommodations, and not much chance for activity. Yet the men we visited today, like the women last week, were as joy-filled and hopeful as can be as we celebrated Mass together. There is a faith in God’s help that guides them toward better things and keeps their hope in a better future alive.
The hope for good and successful futures is also very strong among our students. We visited several schools yesterday and met aspiring doctors, lawyers, nurses, and even a pilot! The opportunity to study, through the kindness of St. Kizito Foundation benefactors, has given hundreds of young Ugandans a reason to hope and plan for a future.
In Kenya, I visited the second largest slum in Africa, Kibera Village, with Mama Margaret, an amazing women who operates Tenderfeet School. This new primary school, supported also by kind benefactors, provides some of the children of Kibera slum with a wonderful school to attend. Not only are they receiving good education, but they are bussed from their homes in Kibera to the school, where they are provided breakfast and lunch along with a very pleasant location including a playground, a very good water well, and crops grown to provide the meals. This is hope fulfilled!
I also have had the blessing of spending two days and one night visiting Kyasira Home of Hope, an orphanage on the shores of Lake Victoria in Uganda. This home, run by the Good Samaritan Sisters, houses and cares for about 50 children, orphans with little hope for even a good meal before being taken in by the Sisters. At Home of Hope, we toured the crop fields, where we saw rows and rows of dying pineapple plants and many diseased cassava plants. Lack of rain and good agricultural products have made it very difficult to provide food for the children.
In fact, in Uganda, the cost of grains, staples, and fish are climbing at an inflation ratepof 23.6% according to the news. Funds are short and food is hard to find. Schools are raising their fees to help cover the cost of food, and some are even closing early.
So it is not easy to hope. But hope prevails.
At Home of Hope, the children, even those who are very small, gather in the chapel in the evening to pray. They drop to their knees to pray the rosary, fighting for the chance to lead a decade. And even the smallest of voices is strong and sure. There is certainly hope alive here.
The children need so much. But it seems to be the mere presence of visitors that is to them the greatest gift. (Of course, the M&M’s don’t hurt!)
Then there is Ronald. Last year he was a vibrant young man of 15. Now, one year later, he is paralyzed from some unknown disease and remains in his dark room alone much of the time. Asked what he wanted, he said a wheelchair and the chance to learn a craft so he can support himself.
Hope does spring eternal for him – a wheelchair has been delivered, along with some drawing and art supplies, for a start. He now has reason to hope that a better life will come.
Hope here is not hope for a life on Easy Street. It is a realistic hope for a way forward, with enough to survive and live a good life. What is needed to hold on to that hope, can be found in the example of the story of Abraham and his barren wife, Sarah. That which seems so very impossible – for them the birth of a child – can be realized if we keep our faith and trust in God. But hope also demands that we do whatever we can to help ourselves and others.
If the childless Abraham and Sarah could have many, many descendants, imagine what is possible here in east central Africa!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Weather is Bad - And That's Good!
As I type this, I am sitting in my room listening to the sound of rain on the roof. It is not a gentle sound, but more like loud drumming. You see, in Uganda, when it rains, it pours. And that has happened for many days in a row here. It’s not all day rainstorms, but usually a few hours each day.
So here I am in Africa, where one thinks usually of hot sunny weather. You might think the rainy weather is a problem, or a disappointment. But in fact, it is a very good thing. Certainly it would be nice to avoid mud puddles deep and wide enough to swim in. And I can’t say I enjoy getting completely soaked and muddy when walking from place to place. The rain also can wreak havoc with an outdoor Ordination Mass! (More on that soon)
Nevertheless, the rain is good. Right now, there is an extreme food shortage, and lack of rain very often contributes in making the food situation go from bad to much, much worse. Here, irrigation is nearly unheard of, since public water systems are almost absent. Water is carried from bore holes, where it is pumped from deep in the ground. Or from streams and small bodies of water. There is often only enough for necessities such as drinking, cooking, and washing. Rainwater collection works wonders in these situations and is one common way of improving water availability. And rain means that the crops are watered and the ground is moist! So I hope that these afternoon “showers” continue, for the sake of the people here and their needs. I just hope it chooses it’s arrival when I am under cover!
Yesterday was perhaps the worst rainstorm I have yet seen here. It began in the middle of the Ordination Mass for the Deacons who have nearly completed their studies at the seminary. As any celebration in Uganda, this one was a major event. It was made more special for us because one of our own, a St. Kizito student, was ordained. Mathew, who has lost both of his parents, was happy to have us present for his big day, and we felt blessed that we were able to see the success of a very nice young man.
The Cathedral here is not big enough for Ordinations, since they are public events attended by a large part of the community, including many of the students in boarding schools. So tents are erected, and tarps are draped over temporary structures to protect people from the heat (or so we thought). The Altar is actually a permanent structure similar to a gazebo, and is raised so all can see well. But the best part of the celebration is that everyone is so filled with joy and energy, the singing is beautiful, and people cheer and clap at the blessing they feel they are receiving in 3 newly ordained deacons. The Mass was very personal and lively.
At some time near the end, the rains came.
It began slowly, but grew and grew until we could no longer hear what was being said on the Altar. I was sitting under the tarps, and along with the many other people there I watched as they began to gather water, and then sag and leak. People moved their chairs to avoid the water dripping, but it seemed the leaks were following! It rained this way for over an hour before anyone could go anywhere!
At first, I thought it a bit sad that such an important day for Mathew and the others was being disturbed by the rain. But as I sat and pondered (not much else I could do because the speeches they began giving were all in Acholi) I decided that this was really much more fitting. Water is one of the sustaining substances in our world. It brings life, cleanliness, relief, and sometimes soothing. And here in Uganda, it is cause for great celebration. So what better way to begin a life of service to God than with water pouring down.
And thankfully, the rain ended and the sun came out in time for the dancing, music, and lunch that is part of the day. It was wonderful to see some of the schools of St. Kizito students present and performing for the event. It was really a very good day.
So let it rain.
So here I am in Africa, where one thinks usually of hot sunny weather. You might think the rainy weather is a problem, or a disappointment. But in fact, it is a very good thing. Certainly it would be nice to avoid mud puddles deep and wide enough to swim in. And I can’t say I enjoy getting completely soaked and muddy when walking from place to place. The rain also can wreak havoc with an outdoor Ordination Mass! (More on that soon)
Nevertheless, the rain is good. Right now, there is an extreme food shortage, and lack of rain very often contributes in making the food situation go from bad to much, much worse. Here, irrigation is nearly unheard of, since public water systems are almost absent. Water is carried from bore holes, where it is pumped from deep in the ground. Or from streams and small bodies of water. There is often only enough for necessities such as drinking, cooking, and washing. Rainwater collection works wonders in these situations and is one common way of improving water availability. And rain means that the crops are watered and the ground is moist! So I hope that these afternoon “showers” continue, for the sake of the people here and their needs. I just hope it chooses it’s arrival when I am under cover!
Yesterday was perhaps the worst rainstorm I have yet seen here. It began in the middle of the Ordination Mass for the Deacons who have nearly completed their studies at the seminary. As any celebration in Uganda, this one was a major event. It was made more special for us because one of our own, a St. Kizito student, was ordained. Mathew, who has lost both of his parents, was happy to have us present for his big day, and we felt blessed that we were able to see the success of a very nice young man.
The Cathedral here is not big enough for Ordinations, since they are public events attended by a large part of the community, including many of the students in boarding schools. So tents are erected, and tarps are draped over temporary structures to protect people from the heat (or so we thought). The Altar is actually a permanent structure similar to a gazebo, and is raised so all can see well. But the best part of the celebration is that everyone is so filled with joy and energy, the singing is beautiful, and people cheer and clap at the blessing they feel they are receiving in 3 newly ordained deacons. The Mass was very personal and lively.
At some time near the end, the rains came.
It began slowly, but grew and grew until we could no longer hear what was being said on the Altar. I was sitting under the tarps, and along with the many other people there I watched as they began to gather water, and then sag and leak. People moved their chairs to avoid the water dripping, but it seemed the leaks were following! It rained this way for over an hour before anyone could go anywhere!
At first, I thought it a bit sad that such an important day for Mathew and the others was being disturbed by the rain. But as I sat and pondered (not much else I could do because the speeches they began giving were all in Acholi) I decided that this was really much more fitting. Water is one of the sustaining substances in our world. It brings life, cleanliness, relief, and sometimes soothing. And here in Uganda, it is cause for great celebration. So what better way to begin a life of service to God than with water pouring down.
And thankfully, the rain ended and the sun came out in time for the dancing, music, and lunch that is part of the day. It was wonderful to see some of the schools of St. Kizito students present and performing for the event. It was really a very good day.
So let it rain.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Heart
One of my professors at St. Mary’s Seminary taught that the opposite of love is a divided heart. We are all created to have a heart only devoted to Jesus, and all other love comes from him. If our heart is divided, it cannot love in the truest sense of the word.
I began my visit to Africa in Nairobi, where I first visited one of St. Kizito’s alumni, Moses. He is a wonderful young man and I consider him as a son. It was a special time for us to be together in his homeland of Kenya for the first time, and special also because I was able to meet the love of his life, as well as his young sister who has been HIV positive since birth and is often in Moses’ care. In our travels and exploration around Nairobi, we saw models of traditional homes, fed a giraffe named Laura (I drew the line at kissing her as the guide suggested!), and viewed government buildings. But the most important stops were to meet many of Moses' relatives. By the end of the short visit, I felt as if I was among family, and the prospect of leaving was sad indeed – for all of us. I pondered the situation, and began to question the wisdom of my professor. I realized that in these encounters and partings, it seems as if we leave a little piece of our heart behind. And we take a small piece of the heart of those we care about with us. The image of a divided heart kept coming to me, and I began to wonder how such a strong feeling of sadness on separating, this heartbreak, could be the opposite of love, since it stemmed from loving each other.
There is a strong sense of unity of the human family in Africa. "We are all family" is not just a casual phrase, but a deep seated reality. Since I left Nairobi, I have reunited with so many others who are “like family.” I have met new people who will also become part of the clan. And I will have to say goodbye to them all as well, as my time here will end soon enough. And this leaving will be followed by a reunion with my husband and children that I long for each day, even as I revel in being here in Uganda.
It all became very clear to me this morning as Fr. Don gave the concluding prayer at Mass. He prayed that we could all join the heart of Christ. And I reflected that Christ, who is the only true love, is also the only heart, and we are all one with him. As we do the work of Christ in the world, we encounter many people, some casually, and others as lasting connections. And we do exchange a bit of our heart with each other, so that ultimately all hearts may be as Christ’s – one with many parts. We give a bit so that we can receive much and experience the true love that is not of us, but for us in Christ.
The mass this morning was the third I had attended in 24 hours. Each of the Masses had a different settings, each had its own characteristics, but all three were very evidently a joining with Christ, one heart and one body. All of the Masses had one thing in common – they were all lively and joyful, Uganda style. The Mass at a girls vocational school brought beautiful singing and joyfully proclaimed readings, even very early in the morning. Mass with the Sacred Heart Sisters in their chapel was small and had a more peaceful joy and sense of togetherness. The celebration at the Women’s Prison was very inspiring. There was a freeing energy to the Mass and a hope that it would never end. Even the guards and matrons were seen swaying to the rhythmic beat of the music. One of our St. Kizito sons was with us - Moses - and he shared deeply with the women at the prison, offering some experiences from the depth of his heart to give them hope.
After the liturgy ended and we shared greetings with one another, one final song exploded into lively dancing - which I just couldn’t resist partaking in! As we all danced and moved among each other, the unity of all, with no concern for background and situation in life, was one of the most amazing experiences I have had. We were truly joining together as the heart of Christ.
In the celebration of the Eucharis, the host, the Body of Christ, is divided and shared in order for the community to be joined in praise. This too is happening to our hearts each day as we live in Jesus’ name.
When I finally return home, I will bring a changed heart. It will carry a small part of everyone I encounter here. It is a blessing.
I began my visit to Africa in Nairobi, where I first visited one of St. Kizito’s alumni, Moses. He is a wonderful young man and I consider him as a son. It was a special time for us to be together in his homeland of Kenya for the first time, and special also because I was able to meet the love of his life, as well as his young sister who has been HIV positive since birth and is often in Moses’ care. In our travels and exploration around Nairobi, we saw models of traditional homes, fed a giraffe named Laura (I drew the line at kissing her as the guide suggested!), and viewed government buildings. But the most important stops were to meet many of Moses' relatives. By the end of the short visit, I felt as if I was among family, and the prospect of leaving was sad indeed – for all of us. I pondered the situation, and began to question the wisdom of my professor. I realized that in these encounters and partings, it seems as if we leave a little piece of our heart behind. And we take a small piece of the heart of those we care about with us. The image of a divided heart kept coming to me, and I began to wonder how such a strong feeling of sadness on separating, this heartbreak, could be the opposite of love, since it stemmed from loving each other.
There is a strong sense of unity of the human family in Africa. "We are all family" is not just a casual phrase, but a deep seated reality. Since I left Nairobi, I have reunited with so many others who are “like family.” I have met new people who will also become part of the clan. And I will have to say goodbye to them all as well, as my time here will end soon enough. And this leaving will be followed by a reunion with my husband and children that I long for each day, even as I revel in being here in Uganda.
It all became very clear to me this morning as Fr. Don gave the concluding prayer at Mass. He prayed that we could all join the heart of Christ. And I reflected that Christ, who is the only true love, is also the only heart, and we are all one with him. As we do the work of Christ in the world, we encounter many people, some casually, and others as lasting connections. And we do exchange a bit of our heart with each other, so that ultimately all hearts may be as Christ’s – one with many parts. We give a bit so that we can receive much and experience the true love that is not of us, but for us in Christ.
The mass this morning was the third I had attended in 24 hours. Each of the Masses had a different settings, each had its own characteristics, but all three were very evidently a joining with Christ, one heart and one body. All of the Masses had one thing in common – they were all lively and joyful, Uganda style. The Mass at a girls vocational school brought beautiful singing and joyfully proclaimed readings, even very early in the morning. Mass with the Sacred Heart Sisters in their chapel was small and had a more peaceful joy and sense of togetherness. The celebration at the Women’s Prison was very inspiring. There was a freeing energy to the Mass and a hope that it would never end. Even the guards and matrons were seen swaying to the rhythmic beat of the music. One of our St. Kizito sons was with us - Moses - and he shared deeply with the women at the prison, offering some experiences from the depth of his heart to give them hope.
After the liturgy ended and we shared greetings with one another, one final song exploded into lively dancing - which I just couldn’t resist partaking in! As we all danced and moved among each other, the unity of all, with no concern for background and situation in life, was one of the most amazing experiences I have had. We were truly joining together as the heart of Christ.
In the celebration of the Eucharis, the host, the Body of Christ, is divided and shared in order for the community to be joined in praise. This too is happening to our hearts each day as we live in Jesus’ name.
When I finally return home, I will bring a changed heart. It will carry a small part of everyone I encounter here. It is a blessing.
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