Food Festival

The high school students, where Kylie attends, were asked if they wanted to volunteer with a local food festival to raise money for refugees in IDP camps.

Kylie was excited to help, so she left early in the afternoon to catch the bus at the school, get her shirt, and help set up before it all started.

When we arrived later, it was dusk, and the traffic was a bit crazy. 

The festival took place during the last religious holiday we had here, and so everyone was out enjoying parks and the cooler evening air.

FYI, those gondola-type cars travel from one park to another park, riding over a third park, which is the one we were going to be in.

When we got there, Kylie was near the front of the serving line, smiling and ready to go.

The line was quite long.

This wasn't even the entire line (I got this picture off of facebook), but you can see Kylie's red hair on the far left.

Kylie also happened to be standing where they placed the prettiest trays of food, so cameras were focused on her area for the first part of the evening (until she switched places and started serving rice).

Pretty, right?

When the speaking part of the program was over, they told us we could get in line for food.

But there was no plan.

We got in "line," but were slowly pushed back by all the people who chose to go straight to the front.

When chaos ensued, an organizer from the food festival came over and tried to tell people to get in a single file line.

Not happening.

However, we did manage to separate men on the left and women and children on the right.

When I got closer to the front (after an hour), some ladies that I had been conversing with pulled me  (and the four kids I was watching) to the paying area at the front.  If they hadn't helped me out, I might never have gotten food.   Doug was on the boys side of the line for at least another 30 minutes.

I think we both didn't want to be "pushy Americans," trying to get our way, so we just let what happened, happen.

Here's the line from my point of view.

That should not have taken an hour, right?

Kylie was still smiling when I finally made it to the front.

Combined, over 60 families and restaurants donated food to the cause.  It was a great opportunity for me to try some things that I was curious about.

The line is in the background, under the red and yellow tents.  

When we got our food, festival organizers came to us because they felt awful there were no seats left.

No problem, one of the ingenious ladies we came with had brought a blanket, and it was big enough for a lot of us to sit on.

And Karis and Keira enjoyed their cuisine.

The major news station for the area posted this picture on their website with the article about the festival.

And Kylie's school posted some pictures on facebook thanking the kids for their hard work.

Definitely a cultural experience and one I'm glad we were able to participate in because we found out about it through the school.

Yeah for a night in the park!

Service from the heart

While we were still in Kampala at a friend's house, Karis woke up early the morning that Doug and Kylie went to the airport to pick up our two new visitors.  She decided to fix breakfast for everyone.

It was so precious that I wanted to share it with you.

She "reserved" the table for us.

 Set everything up beautifully.

The menu was my favorite!  She took orders, and went to make toast if you wanted, and no one was allowed in the kitchen.  She even washed all the dishes afterward.

Then she wanted me to pose with her creation.

Gladly.






 


Not to be outdone, when Caleb woke up and saw the accolades that Karis was getting from me, he decided to clean the room where they were all sleeping, so I took a picture of his efforts as well.

 

A Pain in the Foot

When I told you about student camp, I mentioned going door-to-door sharing Bible stories. One of the houses we came to had Neria.


She sat all day long, doing nothing, while flies just hovered around her foot, which was bandaged in a piece of material.


We didn't see her foot that day, but her family was so open to the message of God's word, that we promised we would return.


I didn't see the wound, but heard the story.


When she was in exile in Congo during the war, she developed a "spot" on her foot. About 10 years ago, the "spot" opened and started to grow. 5 years ago, she saw a doctor who told her she should have an amputation to save her leg. She hasn't seen a doctor in 5 years, but her daughter (on the right in the picture below) cleans it faithfully every day. (I was incorrect in my first post where I assumed the wound was dirty).


With this knowledge, I pretty much knew that I wasn't going to be checking on her foot. I didn't know what it looked like, but I have learned since becoming a parent, that I am NOT "nurse" material.


When my kids throw up, and I see it or smell it, then I start gagging. And apparently, I'm not so good with blood either. Lucky for Doug, huh?


Anyway, I went along with Doug and Florence armed with prayer, all the medical supplies needed, and a camera (hoping to get a glance so we could show an expert).









































































Thank you, Doug, for being the hands and feet of Jesus to Neria. It was such a blessing to watch you serve and love her.



She has never been tested for diabetes, but it looks like she might have it. Some medical personnel in the States suggested she get the dead/black skin burned off, to give it a chance to heal.


We are returning this week to tell her more Bible stories and pray with her, and maybe she will agree to go to the doctor with us, if we promise her we won't let them take her leg.


I've been at the hospital a few times this week, and I know the medical care isn't great, but God can provide someone who knows exactly what to do. You can pray for that with us.