Amare Metek

First, I want to apologize for not writing when I had internet last week. I didn’t know we would have it that day and I felt completely overwhelmed and after writing two emails I was exhausted.  My first week was full of emotion.  I am so blessed by the group of girls here. We have girls from California, Oklahoma, Florida, Nebraska, and our very own globetrotter.   Yes we are craving cheeseburgers, but everyone keeps their complaining to a minimum and lends a hand when they have the opportunity.  I could write for days, but I would like to point out the days in which I was most touched.  I apologize in advance for the length.  Grab yourself a cup of coffee…

Prison:  Well I never thought I would ever do prison ministry nor did I even understand its purpose to be completely honest.  Fortunately it is not up to me.  I had planned to walk in, observe our leader, and maybe participate next time. HA.  God had other plans.  We split the group. 7 girls would go to the women’s, and 5 brave souls would go to the men’s side.  Some girls have a lot of fear when it comes to men, so I took a step forward and volunteered to go to the men’s side.  I found myself walking into a courtyard of 500 Ugandan men guilty of things like murder, theft, and treason.  I felt like my heart was going to explode.    Even my leader, who is a male, seemed a little nervous.  Their songs of praise quickly calmed me.  They were smiling and thanking God for where they were.  I don’t understand that, but that isn’t the point.  It never is.  We were asked to speak.  All of us, I had no escape.  I began to pray. God, what do they need to hear? What on earth does a prisoner need to hear? A murderer? Who the heck am I to know that? I am blonde girl from California who likes an iced coffee and gets excited over a new pair of heels that I got on sale from buffalo exchange.  But, I am also a daughter, a sister, and a believer.  I told them, 500 men all dressed in yellow prison uniforms they were my brothers in Christ.  I used the concept in Ecclesiastes 3… time.  Time to laugh, cry, grieve, and forgive.  Here is the kicker.  Somehow God used me to challenge them to see this as a time to repent for what they had done.  I was not speaking at that moment; it was much bigger than me.  The other 4 girls spoke too, all beautiful encouraging words.  Our leader asked if any of the men wanted to be saved or wanted to rededicate themselves.  Those who did were asked to come to the front.  I stood there, rejoicing with 38 men who came forward in an African jail. 

Barlonya: I have never been so angry.  We went to see a city that was effected by Joesph Kony’s LRA in 2004.  After about an hour drive, we arrived.  We arrived to a monument and a group of men that proceeded to tell us about the event.  The great thing about being with locals is that they tell you a closer version of the truth.  The men leading the “tour” said about 300 people died and 27 children were abducted.  Later our friends from COTN said the number was closer to 700, and that they have to lie because the government threatens their safety.  We came across a young girl who was dying of AIDS, she was 3 years old, but looked like she was 6 months old.  She was frail and struggling to open her eyes.  No one ate their lunch that day. It was mentally exhausting and something I cannot fathom.  This girl would probably die very soon if not given intensive medical treatment and basic things like food and water.  Later that day we ran through our thoughts from the day.   I found myself crying and trying not to raise my voice when talking with the pastor because of frustration.  I was pissed, I still am pissed and I don’t even know who to direct my anger towards.  The girls thought if we cut down on our luxuries we could make a difference.  I found myself explaining to them that if we don’t by the tomatoes and onions from the little man in the market, then he has no money, and then it is his children who will by dying of starvation.  It is a vicious and disgusting cycle.  We sat there trying to solve poverty.  After two hours, we remained.  In the same place we started. Helpless, hopeless, and confused. 

Lira Babies Home- Babies. Everywhere.  My dream come true… well kind of.  5 nuns run Lira Babies Home and it isn’t far from where we live.  We were able to help with the babies, do laundry, or pull peanuts from the ground so they could make baby food out of it.  I met Luciano who is a twin and is a tiny, tiny, miniature and precious little baby (probably 3 months ish).  A little stinky, but so cute.  I played with her for a little and felt bad because I wasn’t doing any manual labor… I pulled peanuts from the ground and was told I would make a good African wife. Holla. I went back to my baby because it was crazy hot and pulling peanuts from the ground is tough work.   I held Luciano and sang my made up songs to her.  This little cute bundle of joy fell asleep on my chest.   It was precious, but it meant I had to go put her into her crib.  No worries, plenty of other babies to sing silly songs to J

Village Partnership- I am going to attempt to explain this.  There are 58 children who live in the village permanently and go to school here.  There are also about 150 others who are considered to be village partnership kids, who just come for school.  They usually live in a one-parent household or just live with their grandmother.  We all split up into groups of 3 to help those families with anything the needed help with.   I went to Solomon’s house who lives with his grandmother and is crippled by AIDS.  I fetched water from the well and sorted beans with a plate looking thing made of dried cow poop (these people are innovative!).  I felt like I was on “The Simple Life with Paris Hilton” because all the African folks laughed at us “munos” (white people) doing their chores.  I had dirt all over me and was sweating like no other, but they were so grateful when we were finished.  We will do this once a week, and I hope to catch a baby goat like one girl on my team!

Our New Home:  We are finally moved into the childrens’ village.   We were living in the guesthouse for the first week while they made preparations for us.  It is going to be quite the summer.  We pump and fetch our own water.  Our showers consist of taking a pail of water that we scoop from our huge trashcan-looking thing full of water in the bathroom.  When the sun goes down at about 7 pm, our flashlights turn on.  The people at COTN are too kind to us.  We have a lady who basically lives with us who does our laundry, and I came back today and she had made my bed.  They have gone out of their way to try to make us feel comfortable.  They even run a generator at night so we can have light for about 2 hours.  It makes us all feel like divas, so we are asking to get rid of it. I live in a room of 10 other girls with bunk beds.  It is hard to find alone time to just breathe, but we are getting used to it.  I am anxious to start computer training, money management, and assisting with sponsorship needs.

MISC: A man named Walter taught me to sew (that’s right, mama).  I am picking up Luo (local tribes language) pretty fast.  I am rockin my Mom’s long dresses.  I held a baby that was a week old.  They call me Rebecca here.   Becky is apparently very difficult for them to pronounce.  They said they would call me “Becca” but we all know how I feel about that…

I am having a great time, but I’d be crazy if I wasn’t homesick.  Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers J I will not be able to send post cards ( by the time the got to America I would be home already and postage is pretty pricey) Just so ya know!

Obanga mi gumm

<3 Becks