The Strength of a Woman, and Other Stories...

Allow me to paint a picture for you.

It's about five in the evening. Whitney and I have left work and gone to Nakumat (the grocery) to grab a few things before going home for the evening. The walk home from Nakumat is about forty-five minutes, and at five PM, the streets are full of matatus (public taxis in the shape of 15-passenger vans) and salespeople. 

A lot of these salespeople depend on selling things to drivers and passersby in order to make some kind of living. They sell anything from candy and toilet paper to shoes, belts, and wall hangings. A lot of them also sell fresh fruit or packaged nuts. 

This particular day, I was deeply engaged in conversation with Whitney when all of a sudden, a salesman with a plastic baggie full of almonds gets my attention. Quite literally, this guy shoves his almonds in my face and says, "Hello, Mzungu!"

Yes, Ssebo ("SAY-bo"- Sir/Mister). Displaying your merchandise so close that I can't even see it absolutely convinces me to buy it.

We kept walking and continued our conversation. 

The salespeople that I see most often are women with woven baskets on their heads that are full of bananas. 

As Whit and I continued our walk, I noticed one of these women walking toward us, basket on her head and her hands down by her sides. Impressive.

And then the incredible happened.

She had been carrying some paper in her hands, and she dropped one of them. She stooped down carefully, retrieved her paper, stood and continued walking.

HER HANDS NEVER TOUCHED THE BASKET ON HER HEAD.

I actually stopped and just gawked at her for a few minutes. That's a strong woman.

****

On another note, I checked on Baby Girl today. She has been moved from Giraffes into the Clinic (the group with the babies too sick to be in their proper age groups), and yesterday she was taken to the hospital because of her seizures. The nanny on duty told me that she had been given new medication, but because she had just started taking it, there had been no real improvement. Baby Girl actually was having a seizure when I walked in the room today, and I prayed over again. Thank you everyone who has been agreeing with me for the healing of this precious baby.

****

Today we went to Tuesday morning staff devotion, which is a weekly gathering of all the staff and volunteers in Watoto. We have a time of worship and prayer and a brief devotion, and usually we hear an update and recent testimony or prayer request from one of the departments. 

Today after devotion, Jill (one of the staff members of Bulrushes) came up to Whitney, Jess and me and asked us to accompany her to Suubi to sort through some donations.

Whitney and I realized this morning that we live in a third world country. Other than the occasional taxi ride, we couldn't remember the last time we had ridden in a car... and we both kinda got excited. Lol. 

We stopped for gas and fizzies (soda), and then set out for Suubi.

By the way, Novida is my new favourite soda. Deeeeelicious.

As we sorted through the donations, I fought with myself over whether or not to ask a question.

See, in case you didn't know, I'm a writer. Always have been, always will be. That is what I'm truly gifted in, and lately God has been reminding me of that. He's also been showing me how I could use that gift in the many dreams that He has given me. (No details just yet... it raises the suspense level and allows me more time to ponder these things.)

Regardless, I've been hoping to find a way to use that passion where I am now. 

So I asked.

"Hey, Jill, is there a need for creative writing in Babies' Home?"

Sure enough, starting Friday, I'll be working on my first two stories... babies' stories.

Dream. Come. True.

"Knock and the door will be opened..."

I'm so so so excited!! 

****

One last story for today. 

At Babies' Home we are served lunch around 12:30-12:45. On Africa time, nothing is quite on the dot, but there is one thing that never fails.

Every day, rain or shine, no matter what has taken place that day, at 12:30 on the dot, once all the babies are asleep, two wild cats that live at Bulrushes (to keep away mice) will enter through the back door into the play room. And the moment they enter, they will begin to fight. 

It's so reliable that you can almost tell time by whether or not the cats are in the play room, as they are never fighting for longer than fifteen minutes. 

All I know is every day at lunch, we are provided with the entertainment of two cats biting each other on the head. 

****

Thank you everyone for the love and prayers! 

Love to everyone. <3, Robin

We'll Always End on a Lighter Note

Literally, I've started this blog post a dozen times. 

It's just crazy to try to put detail and emotion into a post that could never fully convey it... so I'll give you the stories in a nutshell.

• I was homesick this week for the first time, though I wouldn't even call it homesickness. I hate not being able to be there for a friend in such a tragic time. Circumstances such as these make me both love and hate technology; love it for its usefulness and hate it for its uselessness. Thankfully, I was able to talk to my friend for a bit on the phone. 

• After an evening of loving and hating technology, I went to work the next morning and was placed with the toddlers. We don't have many toddlers in Bulrushes; once a baby turns about nine months, they are moved to the Suubi babies' home, where they live until they turn three and are placed in the villages. The toddlers we do have are either special needs or have health issues requiring frequent trips to the doctor, and their group is called the Giraffes. There are four girls in the Giraffes room, but this story is about one in particular. For privacy reasons, we'll just call her Baby Girl. Baby Girl is only one year old, and is absolutely beautiful. She has such a sweet little heart, and she crawls over and sits on you and leans against you and plays with your hair... super cute. She was in my lap while we played with the other three girls, when Lucy (the nanny in that room) tells me that Baby Girl has seizures very often. Not five minutes later, the tiny little body in my lap tensed, and she began to cry and kick her legs. 

I've never experienced this before, seeing someone have a seizure. Baby Girl had four of them in my arms that morning, making a grand total of seven seizures before one o'clock. I talked to the nurse on duty after the second one, and she answered all of my questions as best as she could. Yes, she had gone through all the testing. No, she was not epileptic, though the doctors didn't know what caused the seizures. No, that was not the only thing wrong- she was deaf and mute, as well, and couldn't walk. No, she didn't know whether that was due to the seizures- she hasn't been here long, and she was already like this when she came. 

I was so angry. This is a baby. She's a year old. She should not be having seizures at all, let alone seven in one morning! With all the anger that was in me, with all the emotion built up over the last few days, I began to cry and pray over that little girl. 

I wish I could tell you that I saw her healed that very day. After the fourth seizure in my arms, the nurse took Baby Girl to the clinic in Babies' Home to give her medication and let her sleep while she was hooked up to a monitor. I checked on her several times before my shift ended, but she was still sleeping by the time I left. 

Pray for Baby Girl. I know Jesus is a healer, and I know that He is Lord. 

• It's probably best to leave on the lighter note. In becoming godmother to Andrew, I felt it my maternal duty to preserve as many mementos of his babyhood as I possibly can. So last week I went to Nakumat (the grocery) and bought an ink pad and some other art supplies, and I spent the whole week stamping each of the Monkeys' (0-2 months) footprints! I've cut out each of the prints and placed them scrapbook-style with their name, date, height, weight, and a Scripture on a piece of paper. These will go in their files for them to keep once they get older. 

Thank you everyone for the prayers and support. Please continue to pray for my friend and for Baby Girl. 

Love and prayers, <3 Robin

Pride before a fall...

Every time I go somewhere new, I try to act as local as possible.

Automatically, as soon as I start feeling like I fit in, the most touristy things happen.

For example: 

When my family and I went to New York City for vacation a few years ago, I wanted to blend. I wore my cutesy-trendy peacoat outfits and carried a Starbucks cup at all times. Every time one of my family members did something touristy, I gave them "the look": "Don't you dare be from Louisiana right now!"

Naturally, one of my family members pulled out a map in the middle of Time Square.

Another example:

On tour during my second year of Master's Commission, my friend Adele and I wanted to window-shop at Good Will during one of our stops. We were in Colorado in the dead of winter, and we both had on our cute coats and headbands with the intentions of looking like locals. 

Then we slipped and skidded and skated across the crosswalk to Good Will, letting all the traffic know: there is no snow in Louisiana.

Today:

 I walked to church for Tuesday morning devotions. I had my Africa-time, steady, slow pace going, my hair down and my skirt to my ankles. I was convinced that I looked like a local, mumbling "good morning" and "oli otya" to a few people I passed.

I came to the round-about and prepared to cross the street, looking confidant, knowledgeable about the route I was taking, defiant toward boda drivers offering me a ride.

Then my foot found a rock...

And down slides Robin.

I caught myself before I could actually fall, but not before a boda driver stops and laughs. 

"You are falling!" He laughs as he drives past me.

Okay, we don't have rock slides in Lousiana, either. 

Bath time, swim time, and what's in a name?

Bath time for babies was a trial-and-error learning process for me. Not because bathing a baby is difficult- I actually don't even bathe the babies here. Bath time for babies is like a ten-step procedure...

1. Bring every baby from their bedroom into the bathroom. 

(Bathroom has three changing counters and four sinks especially for bathing babies.)

2. Lay babies down on a blanket on the floor. 

3. Undress baby number one and remove diaper.

4. While undressing baby number two and on down the line, the nanny is bathing baby number one.

5. Hopefully finish undressing in time to hold out a dry towel in which to receive baby number one.

6. Dry baby number one.

7. Lotion baby number one from head to toe.

8. Diaper and dress baby number one.

9. Bring baby number one to play room.

10. Hopefully report back to bathroom in time to hold out a dry towel in which to receive baby number two.

The reality, though, is that while I was undressing baby number six, babies numbers one through five are all like piled on the changing counter waiting to be dried, lotioned, dressed, and carried to the play room. (Okay, I exaggerate... a bit.)

I'm used to talking to Baby while I dry him, singing about the lotion going on his arms, and playing "This Little Piggy" while I dress him. 

The nanny is used to winning world-wide competitions for the fastest baby-bathing. 

I'm proud to admit, I've finally caught up with her, and we can win said competitions together. 

****

On Wednesday, my computer took a swim.

I knew I needed to reload internet onto my modem, so I brought both the modem and my computer with me in my backpack to work that day. During our lunch break, Whitney and I walked to Garden City (the mall) to the Orange Store (internet service center) to see about getting internet, maybe grabbing some lunch if we had enough time.

It was perfect. The sales associate helped me to find a package that would provide enough internet for my remaining four months here without paying an arm and a leg, even rolling over the leftover gigs I hadn't yet used from my last purchase. 

Sure enough, we had enough time to grab a sandwich before we headed back to work. We sat down, excited to find a cheap tuna sandwich- tuna is not cheap here- and I pulled out my backpack to check my phone. I noticed that my backpack left a wet spot on my trousers, so immediately I looked inside to see where it was coming from.

My water bottle had come unscrewed somehow, and everything in my bag was soaked, including both my computer and my internet modem.

I was devastated. 

A few blog posts ago, I wrote that I had a situation that was so crazy that you had to either laugh or cry. In that instance, I laughed. But faced with the possibility that I wouldn't have communication with my friends and family back home, plus losing all my pictures and music and all my writing?! 

I cried.

I called my supervisor and told her what happened, and she let me have a little extra time to take my computer home and put it in rice. I prayed the whole walk home and the whole walk back.

When I returned to work, Jesus knew exactly how to take my mind off the situation. Colors, markers, paper and stickers were scattered across the playroom floor, and all the other volunteers were drawing birthday cards for the nannies who have birthdays this month. Then once my babies woke up, we dressed up our girls with pretty headbands and the nanny I work with- Genevieve- and I joked all afternoon. 

I got home and prayed again over my computer, and I'm excited to tell you that I'm typing this blog from a fully-functional computer! My God is so good. He cares about details, and He knows how I need this computer both to communicate with everyone at home and to store so much writing, music and pictures that I don't want to lose. He knows, and He is so faithful.

****

No one here is named Robin. That's just not a name here. Therefore, several of the nannies call me "Robinah," which is a name here, pronounced:

"RO (like 'road') bin (like 'bean') a (like 'uh')"

(If the above pronunciation guide makes any sense at all to you, give yourself a high-five.)

Yesterday, Whitney and I went to church to watch the Watoto choir practice their upcoming "Beautiful Africa" tour. It was amazing, especially since I've never seen their choir perform. The choir is made up of children from the Watoto villages in Suubi, Bbira, and Gulu, ranging in age from seven to twelve or thirteen. The children sing worship songs, dance in traditional costume, and tell the story both of Watoto and of God's Sovereign hand upon each of their lives. 

It was especially moving to hear a few of the older girls tell their stories. Although their stories were different, they were alike in that both girls had lost their parents at a young age, both girls grew up in the care of other relatives who couldn't afford them, and both were brought to Watoto within the last two years.

And both of them had tears rolling down their faces as they told their stories.

Heart broken.

After the practice, we got to meet the children and talk with them and take pictures with them.

"What's your name?" I asked a little girl, probably eight years old.

"Robinah," she said, smiling shyly. 

"That's my name, too!"

I mean, well, sorta.

****

Thank you everyone for the love and prayers! May God bless you and yours!!

<3, Robin (Robinah)

Becoming a godmother... and other stories.

I had an eventful weekend, filled with ups and downs.

Friday was difficult. All morning there was a sense of urgency in the air as nannies, nurses and the staff of Bulrushes ran around between the nursery, the office, and the clinic pharmacy. I wasn't sure what was going on for a while, until around ten AM there was a loud cheering from the nursery.

"What happened?" I asked a nanny close by. 

"There has been a baby very, very sick in the nursery. He died a moment ago, but his heart beat has been restored." She sounded glad, but gladness mixed with the reservation that makes you pray despite apparent victory.

We prayed. We fought in prayer, and the staff fought medically, too. 

One of the staff informed us that shortly before noon, sweet baby had passed on. We were invited to see his swaddled body in a casket so small it shouldn't have to be built. Two weeks old, a preemie, barely the length of my forearm, and peacefully swaddled as if for a nap. I know he's safe in the arms of Jesus now.

***

Despite the tragedy the previous day, Saturday dawned with joy. It was an occasion Whitney and I had been waiting for...

Baby dedication!!

At orientation, we were told what baby dedication was. Every so often (I can't remember just how often), they take all the babies who had not been dedicated the last time to the church for the Saturday night service. The pastors pray over the babies, and we as volunteers get to stand with the baby of our choice as a "stand-in mom"- or as the supervisor told us, as a godmother. 

I squealed when she told us. Sure enough, as soon as the list of babies to be dedicated was listed on the bulletin board, I wrote my name down next to baby Andrew's. 

Andrew is the smallest of the babies in the age group called "Monkeys" (0-2 months). I don't know his story in full, and for his privacy I'll keep what I do know to myself. However, he is a sweet baby, tiny, always a worried expression on his face, and sometimes I can get him to smile. 

He's also a screamer and a puker, but thank God, he refrained from both Saturday night.

***

Today at work, another volunteer and I sorted through the babies' clothes in the Monkey Room. We rotated all their older, well-worn clothes to the back so that newer, nicer clothes could be worn more often, and then we counted out the eight cutest outfits. When the babies woke from their nap, we took them outside for bottles, and then we changed them into these cute outfits and I went camera crazy.

***

Oh! And of course, you'll want to know the milestone I've reached on this journey. Becoming a godmother was the biggest one, by far. Such an honour and such a responsibility. 

However, I've reached another:

As of yesterday, I've been in Uganda for a whole month. One down, four to go. Time flies far too quickly...

Prayer requests: that I use my time wisely as I switch to afternoon shift, for continued unity among all the volunteers, and continued prayer for my computer, please. 

Thank you, everyone! 

Love and prayers, 

<3, Robin

Rainy day tales...

In Uganda, when it rains, it pours. It's all of a sudden, and it lasts only the amount of time that you're outside walking.

So on Tuesday, Whitney and I got caught in a downpour. 

It lasted the whole length of time it took to walk to Bulrushes... and then it stopped. Naturally. 

****

Monday morning was business as usual. We left the apartment at 7:00 AM to be at work for 7:30. Early mornings in Kampala are relatively quiet. There are school kids and businessmen walking along, but each keeps to his own, usually. 

Sidewalks in Uganda are inconsistent. There are a lot of red dirt paths on the side of the road, and in some areas there are stepping stones lined up to create a sidewalk, though it's often cracked and aligned strangely. No matter how many times you walk the 30-minute trek to Bulrushes, you use different muscles every time, and therefore lose weight! Lol.

So we're walking along this way, talking and minding our step, when a shot rings out through the early morning fog, followed by smoke. 

Have you ever thought to yourself what might your reaction be? A shot rings out in the early quiet... what do you do? Do you run? Do you stay put? Do you yell for help? Do you freeze? 

We froze for about twenty seconds, each our faces an open book to the other. "What do we do?" 

Just as we were about to make the decision to call a staff member and a taxi, we saw a car pull over with its flashers going. Smoke crept out of either end, and it pulled to a quick halt.

Thirty seconds of my life was stolen away in fear by a car backfiring. 

Although we were still shaking, we continued our walk to Bulrushes, laughing at the thought of two Mzungus scared to death of a bad engine. 

****

This weekend will be a huge milestone in my journey, but I'll leave you in suspense until then.

All my love and prayers! 

<3, Robin

"Well done, Mama! You look smart!"

This is another cultural post. I have a little time before moving back to Kampala. ;)

The children here in Babies' Home call each of the nannies and each of the volunteers, including me, "mama." They are young enough that "mama" probably means "lady," "caretaker," or even possibly "person who might hold me or give me food." It probably doesn't mean "mother." Not with so many women acting in maternal roles everyday in their lives.

All the same, there's Jonah. He has a permanent expression of seriousness and observance, though I doubt he is older than two. 

Jonah is a snuggler, despite his solemn face. A few days ago, we sat on the sofa for the toddlers' movie treat. (That evening it was Tangled, and I think I enjoyed it more than the kids.) Jonah was snuggled up beside me, and I said, "I love you, Jonah!" 

"I love you, Mama." 

Heart broken. In half.

On another note, a group of the oldest toddlers (about three years old) all gathered right in front of the TV during "At Last I See the Light" and acted it out right along with Rapunzel and what's-his-name. They pretended to toss lanterns into the sky, and smooth their hair behind their ears, and it was super cute.

More cultural terms:

"Well done!"

This is a greeting, not a compliment. Let's say I'm sitting at a table at a coffee shop. You pass me. I say, "Well done!" You've done nothing but walk by me. This is the context in which this phrase is said here... and I'm still not sure how to reply. 

"... Thank you...?"

Finally:

"So smart!"

"Smart" is in reference to appearance here. If you are dressed very fancy, you look smart. For example, I bought a really cute pair of elephant-patterned "trousers" (see my last blog post) at the craft market a few weeks ago. Yesterday we visited the girl who had sold them to me, and she says, "Ohhh! You look so smart!" 

One more note. I brought my computer to be looked at yesterday, but the cost for a replacement battery was way too much and there's no guarantee that's the problem. However, your prayers are working. I haven't had a problem with the battery at all today. So... Keep up the prayers for my computer! Lol! 

Thank you all for the prayers and support!

Love and prayers,

<3 Robin

"Blessed are the flexible..." and other stories.

Oh, how time flies. Tomorrow makes three weeks that I've been here, and therefore the longest that I've been anywhere outside the U.S.

The last week I've had limited access to internet due to moving to Suubi. Strange prayer request, by the way: pray for my computer! It doesn't work well off its charger, which makes using the internet even more complicated than it would have been. Its battery life is becoming very short, and I need my computer to make it at least until I get back to the States. I'm going to have it looked at today while I'm in Kampala, but keep it in your prayers. (Oh, the prayers we pray sometimes... lol)

A week ago today, I went to our monthly volunteer meeting, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. I got to meet all the volunteers from each of the Watoto sites, and I even got a picture of the three Louisiana girls:

Hannah, Jasmine, and me- all of us from Cajun Country!

The meeting was full of goodbyes, though, because several of the volunteers are getting ready to go home, some of them after as much as six months or a whole year of being here in Uganda; and then there were volunteers being moved to Suubi or Gulu. I had been told that I would be staying in Kampala until the end of July. There were going to be three people left in my apartment once our roommates moved to Gulu...

Well.

Jonathan (over International Volunteers) pulled the three of us aside after the meeting to inform us that in a sudden turn of events, the landlord was requesting that either we pay an additional three months' rent for one month of lease, or that we vacate the apartment immediately. 

"Blessed are the flexible, for they won't be broken in half!" Exclaimed Momma Marigold Cheshier during my first trip to Africa back in 2010. It's true. In Africa, plans change without any notice, and you can either laugh or you can cry. Either way, you have to deal with it, so you may as well laugh.

And boy, did we laugh. 

Kelly and I were being moved to Suubi, the very next morning. Jaclyn would stay in Kampala at the Nakusaro apartment (only one bed was available and she was about to leave to go home). 

We returned home to our Kitante apartment to pack everything up, only to find that the landlord had already cut the electricity. 

Blessed are the flexible... 

And that's why, at 6:00 AM, these two mzungus were up with the sun trying to pack. 

We arrived at Suubi, about an hour away from Kampala, later that morning. Suubi is Uganda. Red dirt, walking everywhere, no chocolate to be found, singing and dancing all the time. Kampala I've found to be its own first-world country within a third-world country. It's Africa, alright, but a modern, westernized, expensive Africa. So I was happy to return to the rural Africa that I know. 

On Saturday, we travelled down to the children's village and visited with some of the families. They shared a Ugandan snack with us and sang and danced for us (video is on my Facebook page). We had so much fun building relationships with these families! Then we went down to the market, where we bargained with the shopkeepers for good prices on fresh tomatoes, watermelon, and bell peppers. Market is a good 45-minute walk from our apartment... so we took boda bodas home! (Motorcycles with extra room for one or two passengers on the back of the seat- in Kampala they are very dangerous, weaving in between cars even in bumper-to-bumper traffic jams. But in Suubi, there is no other traffic, and honestly only one paved road. Not only was it safe, but so much fun!

Me riding a Boda! (Yes, I took this while the boda was going... lol)

On Sunday, we went to the Suubi campus of Watoto church. There are open doors on either side of the auditorium, and it was a chilly day. (I've noticed my body adapting to the weather here. I'm growing so used to being hot all the time that if the temperature is below 80 degrees, I get cold.) Aside from the weather, the service was incredible. Powerful worship, powerful message. I loved it. We also got to take one of the babies with us to church!

Kelly and a little boy from Watoto, Suubi. (No name for privacy reasons)

We had Sunday lunch with a missionary couple from Britain who are teachers here in Suubi through Watoto. They have been here two years and are staying another ten. They're amazing people and have told us incredible stories about their experiences since being here. 

Kelly, Joanna, Whitney, and me and the view in Suubi.

Today, Joanna, Kelly and I took the day off to rest and come to Kampala for some grocery shopping. (I should mention that Suubi, while having incredible deals on fresh fruits and veggies, has little else. Unless you want to be a vegan, you'll need to travel to Kampala to grocery shop now and then.)

Kelly and me with our twinsies trousers. (You can't say "pants" here. It means underwear. Super awkward.)

And then I get a phone call from Fred (our go-to guy for all things volunteer related). 

Blessed are the flexible.

I'm moving back to Kampala tomorrow. 

And boy, did I laugh.