Images

There are things I have seen here that unfortunately will be stuck in my mind for the rest of my life. Things that I honestly didn’t know existed. Sure I had heard stories about the LRA, third-world hygiene, or the medical treatment received here, but really had never paid much attention to them. As sad as the stories that you hear are, it’s just easier to forget about them and move on. But being here, and having these images crammed into my mind over and over again, how could I possibly forget? Whether it is the homeless old women with nubs for fingers begging for money, or Ronald the chapatti vender with Polio, or Isaac who cut his foot opened with a hoe and couldn’t afford medical treatment, or the man at the hospital whose foot was infected with a fungus that basically made his foot look like a tree stump (okay, I must admit I messed with him a little bit because he was wearing an Obama shirt…in a joking way of course!); old women carrying jugs of water, that I struggle to carry, miles and miles; or finding Tony and Jimmy sleeping in a pile of garbage, it’s unfortunately just part of everyday life here in Lira, Uganda.

There are two stories that I absolutely have to share today. Not to make you feel sad or depressed, but so that you aren’t like I was, and you actually can acknowledge that these things do exist. The first is about a boy named Toni. Toni is an ten year old boy who I met at the hospital. He has the same problem that Aaron, who I mentioned in one of my other blogs, has. I don’t know the medical term for it but basically his knee is all jacked up and he can’t use his right leg.  On Monday of last week we went to the hospital like we normally do. Glenn, Madison, Rebecca, and I all decided to scrub-in on another surgery. I had no idea what kind of surgery to expect, but I thought I was ready for pretty much anything…… wrong. As I walked in to the “theater” (the operating room) I saw little Toni lying there on the table. I wish I could tell you that I sucked it up and held his hand during the surgery in which they broke his leg and realigned the bone, but that’s not what happened. I saw his face, patted him on the hand and walked out of the room. About an hour later we were in the same room performing another hysterectomy and we kept hearing screams coming from the room across the hall but didn’t really pay any attention to it since it is a pretty common thing at an African hospital. Thirty or so minutes into the screaming, Madison comes into the operating room and tells me that I need to come outside. The screams were coming from Toni she quickly told me. I immediately ran into the next room where he was, still wearing my scrubs, and saw him lying there with his family. His mom and what I assume is his grandmother were there pinning him down so he wouldn’t fall out of his bed. He kept reaching for his leg and going in and out of consciousness since his anesthesia was still wearing off, his eyes were shaking back and forth as he looked at me, and he was sweating profusely. So for the next two hours I laid there with him with his head in my lap and his hand in my hand as Madison rubbed him down with water to cool him off and prayed over him. For much of the time we were lying there he was holding onto my cross necklace which I thought was so freaking cool! So as I left I gave it to him. Even though there was so much hurt in that room, and seeing a ten year old in the much pain is something I pray that I never see again, there was something so beautiful in there. Two white people, surrounded by six or seven Africans none of whom spoke a word of English, caring for a little boy. In America if two random Africans walked into your child’s hospital room after going through something like that then we would be ticked… But not here. Here they trust white people so much that as I walked into that room she made one of her other children move so I would have a seat on the bed next to Toni. It is so hard to describe the beauty of that situation in a blog, but trust me. It was beautiful.

The next story is about Dennis. Dennis is the “house Dad” at our new ministry called Atin Afrika, which is essentially a street kids orphanage. The other day when we were hanging out at the house, Danielle and Madison were talking to Dennis. I had no idea what they were talking about but I could just tell it was serious conversation. As I kept watching I could see he was getting really emotional, and if you know Dennis then you know that he is always happy, so I could tell something was going on. Later that night Danielle and Madison told us the story that Dennis had told them. I don’t remember all the specifics about his story but if you want to read more about him go and check out their blogs! But anyways… When Dennis was twelve his village was attacked by the LRA and his father was killed during the attack. As bad as that sounds it gets worse. After they had captured him, they forced him to kill his uncle. They made a twelve year old boy kill his uncle. To this day Dennis still lives with that, and I don’t think he has ever forgiven himself for that. I’ve seen the Kony 2012 videos and all that stuff about the LRA, but to actually meet some of the people that have been directly affected by them has broken my heart. The LRA isn’t some made up story, they aren’t part of a movie, they are real people doing things that are unimaginable to innocent people. They mutilate children, kill men, and rape women all for no purpose whatsoever. Hearing stories about someone who I have become friends with who actually was actually forced into the LRA is something that I will never forget.

We have eighteen days left in Lira, I just pray that if we do come into contact with people that have stories like these that God will give me the right words to say to them. I can’t solve these problems or really help these people. Only the Lord has that power. So I beg you; pray for these people. Pray for Toni and pray for Dennis.