who i get to hang out with everday!

                                                        This is Esther, isn't she precious?

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why cows should not be allowed on the road

The transportation in Uganda is one word: CRAZY! There are cars, mututus, city buses, bicycle taxis, coach buses, boda-bodas, and pedestrians all trying to cross the road at one time. From my perspective it looks like there are absolutely no rules, and if there are, nobody follows them. Kampala is a big city, and walking is just not an ideal way to get around here.

The vans are Mutatus. This picture doesn't even come close to depicitng the craziness!

 I have two options when I want to go somewhere. Option 1 is a Mutatu. A mutatu is the equivalent of the city transit or bus at home. They are smaller 12 passenger vans that smash in as many as 18-20 people, and sometimes some chickens too. I find this mode of transport pretty miserable because to get a distance that should take 20 minutes it usually takes at least 45 minutes. When someone needs to get off the yell “Maasawo!” and the driver will pull over. These vans have rows for seats, so for someone to get out everyone in front of them must get out as well. A normal mutatu ride includes if not all than most of the following: sitting on a stranger’s lap, smelling a good amount of B.O. close and personal, getting charged at least double the price as the African passengers, the taxi stopping every quarter mile, at every stop vendors stick their merchandise inside the windows and try to sell sodas, watches, food, and just about anything, the person next to you needs to get out so you have to file out of the taxi and then herd back in, at your destination you look at the time and you are late.

Option 2 is to take a boda-boda. This is a motorcycle taxi. To call a boda-boda all you have to do is make eye contact with a driver on the road and raise your eyebrows. I have been amazed that a driver will respond to this gesture from very far away! I was warned over and over (times a hundred) about how dangerous bodas are. Bodas weave in and out of traffic like they are being chased by the police in an action movie. The roads are terrible, and the possibility of hitting a pothole too hard is pretty high. I have heard a statistic that 5 people a day, A DAY, die in boda accidents. Nevertheless, my favorite way to get around Kampala is by boda. A boda ride is fast because you don’t have to wait for traffic, you just go around it. It is also nice to be on the back of a motorcycle in the heat because the wind is a natural air conditioner. Michael, my boda driver, is a friend that I met as soon as I arrived here. He jokes that he is my body guard, but I really do call him my guardian angel. He has driven me all over the city, he is reliable and on time, and he will come to pick me up no matter what time or where I am. Now that is service! 

Michael and I waiting for "Ente" to cross the road.

What inspired me to write about the transportation in Uganda? None other than my very own story to tell! Michael was taking me into town and we were on the road that headed out of our “zone” or our neighborhood. One moment I was waving at the lady who pumps fuel and the next I was flying off of the motorcycle. What I hadn’t seen was the cow that had charged across the road. Michael slowed as much as possible, but he couldn’t avoid it completely and it hit the front tire. The impact caused us both to be thrown off. I landed on my right hip and then slid for a few feet on my right side. Once I realized what had happened, the adrenaline kicked in and I stood up as fast as I could. I did a quick systems check to make sure nothing was broken and that my head was still attached. Within 30 seconds of the accident there was a swarm of people surrounding us. All of these people knew who I was, in one way or another, and they were all so concerned about me. One man had run to his house to get a first aid kit, while another had brought me a bottle of water. I was absolutely filthy, covered in dirt and mud from head to toe and this is point when I realized I was bleeding pretty badly from my shoulder and hip. I called another boda (yes another boda) to take me home so I could clean up. Michael’s boda was very messed up, and his arm was injured and he hit his head. Michael’s boda is his life- the only income he has. My first thought went to him. What is he going to do? How will he get the money to fix the bike if he can’t work? And how can he drive with a hurt arm? Within a few minutes of reaching the apartment Michael was at the door. Even though his head was bleeding, his boda was totaled, and he had no way to earn money, his first concern was me. He expressed over and over how sorry he was. He explained that he tried his best to fall under me so that I wouldn’t get hurt.

A few days later, I am healing up ok and am left with a pretty big fear of getting on a boda again, but I know it’s something I have to do. More so I can’t stop wondering- Why did this happen? Why did God let that happen to me? I pray at the beginning of every ride, “Lord, please keep me safe.” Did He not hear me? Or did He just choose to not listen that time? This kind of dialogue with God can often cause frustration, and I was definitely at that point. I know that God allows terrible things to happen to good people, but why?

If you believe that God allows things to happen, then you must believe that there are some things that God does not allow. I went round and round in head about all of these concepts and soon came to understand- God did allow me to get in a boda accident, that much is true. But what part of the story do I not know (or will I never know)? What part did God not allow? I could have broken a bone, hit my head, or even died. Those are all likely consequences of a boda accident, but I came out with just scrapes and bruises. God protected me, so much more so than I can even appreciate. Plus, now I have a pretty awesome story to tell.

9 days of Rwanda

Recently I got the opportunity to travel out of Uganda to Rwanda. I had an amazing time, and I hope one day I can return.

Traveling in Africa is not a carefree adventure. It is not uncommon for the buses to be raided by rebels, or even ransacked by the police. The roads in Uganda are very dangerous and we were also worried about the possibility of an accident, or even the bus breaking down in the middle of the trip. I know a lot of people prayed for me, and for the safe travel to Rwanda and by God’s grace we reached our destination very tired, but safe.

The best purchase I have made...a blow up pillow. This is on the coach bus, right before we left on a 12 hour overnight journey!

Rwanda is an absolutely beautiful country. The landscape is green and very hilly. It lives up to its nickname, “The Land of a Thousand Hills.” It is very different from Uganda. The roads are clean, and you are fined if you are caught littering. The bodas are required to wear helmets, and they even have helmets for their passengers! Rwandans are not as impressed by white people and I enjoyed not being called “mzungu” or being pointed at.

Beautiful! A quick picture I took on our drive to the conference.

The conference was a great and inspiring time. I met some amazing and faithful people who were serving all over East Africa. I was encouraged by the speaker and even met some new friends who live only a few hours from me. I got a good amount of rest and got to have real coffee for breakfast, so all in all it was quite the treat!

Fellow AIMers. We took a boat trip to an island called "bat island."

How it got its name.

Besides losing my ATM card, we have had fun in Kigali. Our hotel was right by the town square and our view was amazing. Rwanda is a beautiful country, very green and very hilly. We also have a shower with warm water!! I took a 20 minute shower and it was a spiritual experience. The hotel runs about $25 a night, so it's a great deal for the money.

View of Kigali from our room 

One day we went to the genocide memorial in Kigali. It was absolutely incredible. It was so well put together and organized. After learning about the history of Rwanda, I am so much more educated on the issues that caused the genocide in 1994. Again, being in the country and city that it happened in is surreal. The pictures of all the victims line the walls, and the rooms that were dedicated to children were very difficult to be in. The memorial is a burial site for a quarter of a million victims. They had actual items from the genocide like machetes, chains, and guns. They showed videos that displayed victim’s personal stories. It was definitely overwhelming.

The Genocide Memorial, the concrete blocks are the mass graves.

We also went to two churches where over 20000 people were killed in the genocide. These churches at Nyamata and Ntarama, are places that thousands of people fled to because they thought it would be safe for them and their families. The churches are now memorials. Inside, there were clothes everywhere, blood on the walls, and rooms and rooms of skulls and bones. The churches reek of a smell that I can only describe as death and true horror. My heart was burdened and heavy for all of the lives that were lost.  Because the churches are a good 45 minutes from town we had to grab a mutatu back to town. We randomly started talking to this guy, Eric,  in the taxi about nothing in particular. He ended up really helping us get around and we wanted to repay him so we asked if he wanted to join us for coffee.  We sat down and we all started talking and getting to know each other more. He asked us what we were doing that day and we told him we visited the memorials. His mood changes slightly and he told us that he was inside the church at Nyamata. We were shocked to hear this since we had just spent all day there, and we asked him if he would be willing to share his story. He was 8 years old and his family sought refuge in this church. He witnessed the murders of over 10,000 people, people who were his family and his friends. He survived that day by the grace of God. . He was so open with his story, which is an amazing part since it is practically impossible to talk to a stranger about what happened- it is very hush hush here. We talked to him for 3 hours about his life, his testimony about when he became a Christian, and his hopes and dreams for himself and for Rwanda. I'm telling you, if we would have actively looked for someone to share their story it couldn't have been more amazing than his. Eric took a few hours out of his day to talk to us, and in return his testimony will inspire me for years to come.  

Some new friends in Kigali! This is Eric's mother and neice. These people are precious.

My time in Rwanda was absolutely incredible and an experience that will stay with me and continue to challenge me. Having the opportunity to even go to Rwanda is amazing, and I am so thankful that the Holy Spirit’s fingerprints were all over the trip. Pray for Rwanda, that it would see true and deep reconciliation. Pray for all of the survivors as well as all who were apart of the killing. Pray that God would do great things for the Rwandan people, that a new sense of hope and purpose would take hold of them.