Things I See (Vol 5)

Welcome to "Things I See."  If you want to see the previous four installments, you can click on Volume 1 , Volume 2, Volume 3, Volume 4

A man from College Station blessed me with two gifts, and he didn't even know it.

He sent a box of goodies for our family, and he wrapped them in newspaper that had crossword puzzles from "The Eagle" newspaper.  I've already cut them out, so all I have to do is flatten them out.  

I like Crossword Puzzles.

Keira is learning how to write her letters.

You never know what combination might come up.

My girls get a lot of attention when they are dressed like ballerinas.

It's like being a politician.  People just give you a baby when they want to take a picture of you.

I was laughing so hard, I almost didn't get the picture taken.

Karis didn't know what to do.

Normal Thursday night in our city (last day of the work week).  

No seat belts.  

Kids in the driver's lap. 

Kids hanging out of windows.  

Kids cruising while standing in the sunroof.

It's very important to keep your car protected from the elements.
Why bother peeling off the plastic covering?

This is where we get our passport photos done.  

The door says, "The room of taking pictures."

Older men like to find shade in the summer and sun in the winter.
They will sit and talk for hours and hours.

Wouldn't you like to be a fly nearby?

Bye, Baby Bunting

House number 6 also had a well-respected family.  In fact, the lady of the house told us she had lived there for 35 years.  That's a long time to hold a "respected" reputation.

The men and women were separated outside and ushered into two different rooms.

Chocolates came around.  Then came sodas and juice.

I don't know how some people keep up this pace.

I don't think I had anything after the first house.

Of course, the first house had homemade baklava, so I pretty much ended on a good note.

Keira went off to play with two little girls who were playing dolls.

There was also a sweet little 1 year old sitting in her mom's lap with her two hands completely bandaged.  The day before, she had laid both of her palms, face down, on a hot kitchen burner.  Ouch!

But she was sitting quietly.  No whining.  No moaning.

Another lady entered with a young baby.  She also carried our equivalent of a pack 'n' play with her.

I've shown you this pictures from the bazaar of baby beds, but I had never seen one in action.  I certainly didn't think they traveled around with them. 

At first, when I saw the beds, I thought they might be just baby beds for dolls.

Then, I thought if they were for real babies, could they be safe??

Then, I saw this...I wanted to show you all the parts they add to the bed.  The grandmother is holding the baby in her arms in the front left of the photo, but the bed, as you can see, has a series of ties and strips that they use to cleverly secure the baby.

I felt odd taking a picture of it "in action," but when I see a baby of a mother I know better, I'll be sure to snap a photo (if I have my phone).

This is usually how I have seen babies travel, especially in cars.

There are handles attached to the side for easy carrying (and much lighter than a car carrier).


This reminds me of another story I forgot to tell you.

I was at the vegetable stand one morning, about to weigh my goods, when a car pulled up right in front, close to the curb, and a man hopped out with a basket like this.

BUT, imagine the above picture with TWO babies in the carrier, laid like a yin & yang.

One with his head at the top, and one with his head at the bottom.

Twins.

He laid the basket on top of the veggie scale without asking the owners, and yelled back to the car the weight he saw on the digital reader.

Then, he laid the basket on the ground, took out one of his treasures and put it wrapped up like a burrito onto the cold, metal scale.

He yelled the weight back to the car of baby #1.  Then, he took out his second treasure and did the same thing.

Everyone laughed and smiled because one was so much smaller.

Then the proud dad grabbed his basket, slid in the passenger seat, put the basket on his lap, and the driver took off.

I was DYING that I didn't have my phone!

That will teach me to think that I'm going to have a normal experience when I go outside of my gate.

I had never seen a baby weighed on a flat, metal vegetable scale before; however, do you remember this proud dad?

Uganda had it's own unique way of weighing babies.

You can see it didn't affect her too badly...

She's just fine.

Sort of :)

5 + 1 = 6

 Well, if you haven’t already heard, we are expecting our fourth child, another blessing, another arrow for our quiver.

To answer your questions, “October 15, Kenya, and no.”

Just kidding. 

I’m due October 15th.

I will deliver in Kenya.

No, we are not going to find out what it is.

I have been feeling pretty rough, but I’m trying to get some exercise, which I never did with any of the other three.  My brain is racing with all the things that will be different about raising a baby in Africa versus suburban America.  I'm only 3 months along, so I still have some time to think about things.

I flew to Kampala a couple of weeks ago to have some blood work done because I had been feeling unusually bad (migraines causing nausea, in addition to my already daily nausea).  I am now on an altered diet, and my headaches have decreased in number.

Doug drove the kids down to see me while I was in Kampala and we decided to tell them there, because they were pretty concerned about my health.

We took them out to eat and showed them this math problem:

They got the answer but were having trouble with the meaning, so we gave them the gifts we had bought them:  baby bottles and pacifiers.   Kylie's eyes lit up.

All three of them are SO excited.  Kylie cried.  I cried with her.  Karis was already imagining playing “momma” and talking about what she would teach it,  and Caleb said about the balloon in his hand, “I can keep this until the baby’s born and then tie it on his foot and he’ll be able to move his foot up and down and play with it.”

There personalities are so distinct!

I don’t want to make this a blog where I talk only about my pregnancy, but I just wanted you to know, because it will come up from time to time.  And then #4 will probably get a fair share of press, too.  But what it means for you now and in the future, is that I will be going to bed earlier at night.  THAT means that the late hours I usually spend answering emails and writing blogs will be cut in half, so you might have to wait longer for a response or a blog (if you get one at all).  You know how it is….zzzzzzzzz.

Another visitor

Jack, my piki driver, said one day, "I think we will be having a visitor soon."


If you are familiar with my previous "visitor" experience, you will be glad to know that I didn't ask if someone was coming to stay with his family or if a thief was expected to break in.


This time I knew...his wife was going to give birth.


A few days later, Jack told me that Gasi was at the hospital, so Florence and I rushed over.


We found out that Gasi was having contractions really far apart, but the baby wasn't coming.  But since the baby seemed too large to the medical "authorities," they wouldn't let her go home.  (She had her Maama Kit with her, ready to go, though)


So we sat.


Outside.


Under a tree.























This is Florence and all of Gasi's (and Jack's aunts) belongings.  Since you don't get an assigned room to yourself, you have to carry your belongings with you wherever you go (including the charcoal and pot for cooking).  The rooms are just large, camp-style with wall-to-wall beds.


Below is Gasi.


Smiling.


In labor.



















































This is Abuku.  She is my favorite of all of Jack's aunts.  She is funny, loves to laugh, and since she doesn't have any children of her own, she helps everyone else take care of theirs.


She loves having conversations with me in Lugbara.  She cannot speak English, so hanging out with her is definitely good practice for me.



Her name means "still the one to bury."  Her father had 5 girls, and when she born, the relatives commented that even though she was a girl, she would "still be the one to bury" her father.






























Below is Driwaru.  Her name means "coming out of an accidental curse."  Her family believes the mother was accidentally cursed, and when Driwaru was born, they took it as a sign, that the mother was "coming out of it."






























The last one is Nyakuru.  Her name means "still for the soil."  I wasn't getting the meaning totally.  It was because her first sibling died, and maybe she was a replacement ???
































Because of these names, I recalled all the other names I have learned since being here.


Sadly, relatives often give these morose, sad names to children.


Gasi (Jack's wife's name) means "refusing," because she wasn't wanted.


Bako - "has no relative"

Adriko - "has no brother"

Amviko - "has no sister"

Anguyo - "no place" (the wife doesn't have a piece of land and they don't feel welcome at home)

Lekuru - "not liked"

Draru - "death" (sickly child / mom almost died / or no proper treatment after exile)

Agasiru - "refusing"  (means child's mother's relative didn't want her to marry that man)

Candiru - "sadness"  or "problem"

Ocokoru - "misery"

E'yotaru - "tolerating problems"

Okuonzi - "bad woman" (the child's mother given this name by the father's relatives)

Aziku - "she doesn't work for the clan" (also about the child's mother)

Angudubo - "place is bushy" (all family has died and no one keeps the grounds)

Ojuruko - "termite" (the child is not human; it's a termite for the ground b/c it won't live.  This name was given in the instance that her two older siblings had died)

I've even met an Alpha Omega (he was the first and last child of his mother...she died.



Well, now we come to two days later.  I arrived at the hospital to check on Gasi, and Abuku was sitting under the tree outside, holding the new baby!!


Right as I started talking to them, Jack drives up with a driver in a car taxi.  It is to bring everyone home from the hospital.   

She had just given birth THREE hours before, and now she was headed home!


They all invited me to ride with them, so Gasi, the baby, the three aunts and I got in the taxi for the journey home.


They dropped me off at my road, and I went to see them two days later, with Kylie, bearing gifts of food for the family.


He is a beautiful baby.

Jack, Gasi, Sayida, and Jamal (who was given his name one and a half weeks later).

More Maama Kits

One afternoon in May, Kylie and I biked to Jack’s house (my piki driver) after I found out his wife, Gus, was pregnant. After giving her a Maama Kit, I stopped on the way home to buy cabbage on the side of the road.

By the way, I have no idea what I was doing buying a cabbage, without a market bag, while riding a bike, but I did it. Thankfully, I ran into a friend I call “Mama Rose.” She offered me her plastic grocery sack.

I know she was going to buy food, but I really needed that sack, and she was offering...

You also have to know that people here charge you for sacks sometimes, so you always try to carry one with you. It was totally a non-thinking day for me.

Mama Rose has two pregnant daughters, and she wanted Maama Kits for them. She had heard I had them, but she was afraid I would make her pay for them. She hugged me so hard when I told her they were free, just like God’s love. After talking some more. I left her smiling on the side of the road.

Kylie and I biked home, got the kits, and God told me I should ride back to give them to her instead of waiting until we would meet again in 2 days. She was so happy (AND I returned her grocery sack AND gave her three extras)!

This happened back in May.

When she saw me last week, she told me one of her girls had had a boy in Kampala and she wanted me to write down a name on a piece of paper so she could give it to her daughter to name her son.

I wanted to laugh.

This lady wanted me to name her grandchild, when I had never even met the mother. Of course, many children here are given multiple names. It doesn't mean that whatever I name it will be how it is known, but it was just the thought. Wow!


This last month, I met Scoviah. She came to my house for a Maama Kit.

She is 18. Not married. And she had to drop out of school until the baby comes.

She's in 5th grade.

She wants to go back after the baby is born.

David, a pastor in town, brought his wife by to see Doug while I was in Kampala with the kids.

I think it's awesome that Doug is handing out Maama Kits, too.

Maama kits yield a return.

I had a repeat "customer" in June.

Christine (Alice's sister) came by to show me Letasi Onyiru Marion.

I had given her a Maama kit earlier.

Isn't she beautiful?

Here is Alice, proudly holding her neice.

The "Unknown Visitor" gets Baptized

A few Sundays ago, Patrick invited our family to his church on the day his son was getting baptized. This was the "unknown visitor" I wrote about in January.

I also remember telling you about the time we drove out to Patrick's, and I was amazed that he biked the distance between his house and mine nearly every day whether in rain, cold, heat, or mud.

So, here we go.

He told us to be there at 9am. So we planned to leave the house at 8:30am. At 8:25am, Patrick called to tell us that it was starting at 8:30.

Oh well.

Why do I ever worry about time here?

This continent runs on a different clock.

It's called "no clock."

Of course, we arrived at 9am, and it hadn't started.

The church was full, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the service was held off for us, but I didn't ask.

We drove up, and someone walked out to meet us and lead us in. We didn't know him, but he knew us.

We entered in a side door and he led us....

to the front.

Like "the stage" the front.

Like "behind where the preacher preaches" the front.


See... proof. That's the preacher, and I'm behind him (sneaking photos).

Of course, in our hurry to leave the house, I forgot my Lugbara liturgy book, so I couldn't participate in a lot of the readings, but I did know when the baptism process started because...

everyone turned around and faced the BACK of the church.

Well, I'm not shy. I shuttled on down the aisle and sat myself down (with three kids following me) on the "new" front row. Doug stayed behind and manned the stage.

These little kids were sitting on a mat in the back (the new front).

When Patrick's son's name was called, Patrick came up and joined his wife with the rest of the family members. Part of the tradition here is that everyone in the family has to hold the baby for a small time, so they passed him around to 6 or 7 people before the reverend took him.

And with foreigners now in the back of the church, more kids started crawling in.

Kids with kids on their backs.

'

After all the children had been baptized, I scooted on back down to the stage.

At about the 2 1/2 hour mark, they took up the offering.

Part of the custom here is for each individual to bring their offering to the front.

I got such a kick out of Caleb at this point, and I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud.

He took his offering, and he got stuck in a mass of people and couldn't get out. I shouldn't laugh, I know, but it was so funny watching his face.

Another normal thing you see here is people bringing part of their harvest as their offering to God. I guess for us Americans, we could equate it to people paying Doc Baker with apples and corn for his services on "Little House on the Prairie"

This is a bowl of cassava that was brought.

After church, we were guided outside.

I took a picture of the church parking lot for you.

This is an adugu. A popular instrument made around here.

Beautiful sound.

This was our view outside.

Basically, it's a group of kids who stood in front of us and just stared, because...

someone got chairs out of the church and lined them up for my family to sit in the shade of the building.

Do I have to tell you that this was a tad bit awkward?

It didn't last long because lunch was being served.

We were ushered into a hut and seated next to the pastor.

The big thing for my kids is eating food in the village. They have really gotten good at trying everything, and I'm so proud of them. This day, especially, they did a great job (of course, grasshoppers and termites were not on the menu).

After eating and being at the church several hours, we knew we had to get back for Doug's bible study with the baseball team, but we wanted to get pictures of Patrick's family first.

I love developing pictures and handing them out to people. It gives them and me such great joy.

Here is the boy I named Michael and they named Aitasi.

I'm thinking the white lady is scaring him, what do you think?

His older son cried the last time he met us and didn't want his picture taken. So even though he has his hands in his mouth and he's not smiling, this was a big step.

Ok. I like you now.

Time to go back to the car (the only vehicle in the "parking lot" pasture).

If you ever come here, you will feel like a movie star. Everyone wants to touch you, stare at you, and talk to you.

Here is a picture of the paparazzi following our car.

And Aitasi's first car ride.

Good day at Vurra.

No hovering...anywhere

I have yet to see a mother in Africa hovering over her children. There probably are some, but I haven't seen them.

I talked to a woman the other day and when I asked her about the ages of her children at home, she said that they were 2 and 3.

I said, "Who stays with them?"

She said, "Oh, they are old enough to manage."

What??

I'm hoping they manage with other siblings or cousins.

That tends to be the model around here. If a girl is 4 1/2 or 5, they are old enough to start caring for younger children.

I watch a mother every Sunday leave her 5 month old with a young girl. This week, the girl looked to be about 6. The baby was naked and wrapped in a beach towel on the young girl's back.

The mother went off to get water at the bore hole. When the young girl wanted to climb a tree with the rest of the kids, another girl, who looked a bit younger, took the infant.

Think about how we operate in America with our newborn babies. We spend so much time with them, we know their habits and their cries. This newborn boy is with a different girl every time I see him. They don't know his cries and habits.

Maybe this is why African children are so tough. They grow up without this constant care from one person, and they learn to adapt and not be so whiny, like some of us probably were as children. But please know that I am aware that some mothers do spend more time with their children. This was just the instance I saw today.

At the church service (this was at the ORA base - where some orphans and foster children come to church) we attended this last Sunday, I watched this one boy for about 30 minutes do things that would have had any mother hovering, but there was no one around to take care of him.

He entered church after having peed in his pink shorts, and it was still running down his leg.

He went and sat on a drum that one of the boys was beating, getting the drum a little wet.

Then, he wanted to hold the Bible story book, and he set the spine of the book right onto his wet shorts. When the Bible study teacher took it from him, she didn't even seem to care or notice that it was a bit damp.

When we went outside to play afterward, I saw him standing with his shorts pulled down just enough to let his private parts hang out, and he was peeing down the front of his shorts...again, and down his leg, with his hand getting terribly wet.

THEN, he went and picked up a small mango off the ground to eat. He picked it up with the dry hand, but then it slipped to the ground, and he grabbed it a second time with his wet hand, and he bit into the mango.

THEN, with part of the mango innards exposed, he thought of a better idea. He would take it with him while he played.

He pried open his small, wet pocket on these little-girl shorts and stuffed it in before he ran off to swing and play in the dirt.

I'm sure you can figure I was cringing, but I was also sad.

There was no one to change his shorts.
There was no one to wash his hands.
There was no one to clean off his mango.
There was no one to teach him about the sanitary way to take care of food.

Sadly, all I did was tell him in Lugbara (as I saw the urine running down his hand, shorts, and leg), "You need to wash your hands." The water tank is dry because it is dry season, so I didn't even know where to tell him to go to wash his hands. I guess I was hoping he knew.

My children and your children are blessed to have parents who take the time to raise them not only in the admonition of the Lord, but also in the healthier ways of the world.

We Americans could probably hover a little less and teach a little more independence to our children, but I know if we are over-doing it, it's because we love them and worry about them.

A lesson for us all is that we should trust the Lord to take care of our children. That's what I'm praying for that boy I saw today.

The Unknown Visitor

Monday, I gave Patrick, our watchman, some candy canes for his kids. A few days later, he asked me about the "sticks" I had given him.

He said, "How do you eat those sticks?"

I explained about peeling off the plastic and then sucking or chewing on them. My guess is the plastic was the thing throwing them off. I'll bet they thought I gave them some dud candy.


I tell that story to set you up for this one...

You need to remember how different our cultures and experiences are.

Here we go...


Tonight as I greeted Patrick, I asked him about his day. He told me he had driven his grandfather deep into Congo to visit relatives.

That may sound pretty simple to you, but let me tell you what Patrick drives...a bicycle.

I KNOW he must have been worn out.

He carried his grandfather SEVERAL kilometers into Congo, returned home, and then came straight to my house several kilometers...on his bike.

Then, he proceeded to tell me that his home place had a visitor last night.

Knowing he was watching my place last night and not his, I said, "Was it someone bad? Is everyone okay?"

He said, "Yes, this is what we say when a baby has come."

Of course I was ecstatic! I knew his wife was expecting, but I didn't know it was to be so soon. Besides, when I had asked him at an earlier time where his wife would deliver, he told me about a local hospital that is about 5 kilometers or more from his house.

I said, "Will you drive her?"

Of course, I meant, on his bicycle.

Picture this with me, all you ladies that have gone through labor pains. Would you consider, even for a second, taking a ride to the hospital on the back of a bike across pitted dirt roads? I think not!

But his response surprised me in more ways than one. He said, "I will take her part of the way on my bicycle. But the hospital gets mad if you show up riding on something. They want you to walk the baby out, so I will have to let her walk the last bit."

I don't know what my face looked like at that moment, but the words going on in my mind could not and should not make it out of my mouth.

Make a mental note, Kathryn: Do not deliver here in Arua, if by chance you get pregnant.

OK. On with my story.

I was ecstatic, remember?

Then I remembered that Patrick was at my house and not at home, so I asked who had driven her to the hospital.

He said, "She just had it at home."

OK, I didn't know what to say to that, because I'm guessing it was my family's fault that she didn't get to go to the hospital.

New topic.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Did you see it?"

"No. Maybe I will ask her mother tomorrow what the mother delivered."

MAYBE...ASK TOMORROW!!? The MOTHER!!?

Of course, I wanted to scream, "It's YOUR child, and your WIFE," but I try to be a good missionary sometimes and realize that this is another culture...not mine. I am a guest here...a foreigner.

So I calmly said, "Let me know when you find out so we can buy a gift."

Of course, Doug had a better idea when we talked later. Instead of buying a gender-specific gift, we should take them beans, cassava flour, sugar, etc. Sounds good to me.

You go find out what kind of child your wife had, and I'll go to the market and get some food.

No, I did not say that. Give me some credit.

I praised God for a healthy child, and I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving with him. Much better, huh?

I'll let you know what they name him/her. Of course, that won't happen until after the umbilical cord falls off.

Oh, I have a lot to learn about our cultures differences!