The Village Outside of Iganga

It is hard to put into words the past few days in the villages. I spoke with Jeremy, my husband, last night for the first time since we had been teaching in the villages and I realized there was no way to bridge the gap in time, space, experience, and emotions that I was feeling. I feel a sense of inadequacy with each word I type because it can't even begin to explain some of the things I have seen but for the sake of those who have supported my trip and, more importantly for the dignity of the people I have met and observed I will try and tell a bit of the story.

Walking down the long dusty clay path to the first orphanage overwhelmed me. I kept thinking as we past each child, (some standing naked on piles of clay digging into the dirt with a stick, some squatting naked on piles of trash sorting through it for what to them would be a treasure or a next meal) "Where are the people that should be taking care of them?" I do not ask this in any sort of judgmental way because the severity of the circumstances here humble me to the core in a way that no judgment could possibly pass from me to them. I ask this question with a deep sadness.

We spent many hours in the past few days with the teachers of some of the orphan children. It was wonderful to see how appreciative they were of our resources and time. We were able to find the curriculum for Uganda primary school and give them the curriculum along with the teacher guide. They had never seen any of this and they said it would help them tremendously.

I want to introduce you to Rebecca. She is one of the mamas at the orphanage. She has such a sweet, nurturing spirit and a deep concern for the children. She gave me great hope when she told me her story of growing up an orphan. She attempted to explain how lonely it can be at times. I felt hopeful that someone could grow up in those circumstances and come back to love on these children so well.

Please pray for the children here.