Kampala is a city bustling with activity and with life. The people here are quite industrious. Many stores and restaurants and even most pharmacies stay open until 10pm or later.
In addition to the taxi minivans, the thousands of boda-bodas, (small motorcycles that carry people throughout the city) dart through the often heavy traffic, and can get you through the worst traffic jams. If you're willing to take the risk, they are a very efficient means of getting around.
Yesterday, we took the sponsorship kids for a day outting of swimming and fun at a beach alongside Lake Victoria. Thankfully, they also had two large pools, and much of my day was spent giving swimming lessons to most of those kids.
For such a day, we bought a lot of food, rice, meat, potatoes, and cabbage, that was prepared by the kids themselves, either over a charcoal or wood fire early in the morning.
I had brought a few extra swimming suits from back home, but still several kids didn't have them so, together with two of the older boys, I went to the huge open market in the heart of Kampala to buy a dozen more. I love that market, even though it is so expansive, one can easily get lost. It is said to be the largest open market in East Africa.
As we wound our way, navigating past the narrow paths of huge bags of beans, rice, various flours, vegetables and spices, we eventually came to the clothing area, where hundreds of sellers hawk their particular clothing types, calling out their prices.(most of which I now understand). Some sell men's trousers, some specialize in girls dresses, and yes, some even carry swim suits, all of them used, purchased in huge bales, usually from the U.S. Finding what we came for, the only thing left was to haggle over the price, which I also find enjoyable.
We reached the resort early in the afternoon and after a large lunch from the huge tubs of prepared food we had carried with us, the kids were off to change and from there, to the pools.
Trying to teach the basic facefloat, learning to kick at the edge of the pool, to hold your breath and open your eyes under water, for the twenty-eight swimming, only went so far, but most of them were determined to learn to swim.
We stayed until after nightfall, and after the minivan taxis that had been called, failed to materialize, we all started hiking, under an absolutely beautiful, starry, Ugandan night, toward the main road. Some were sent ahead on boda-bodas to try and compel other of these minivan taxis, that route along the raod between Entebbe and Kampala, to take us back to Kampala.
After negotiating a good price, we were on our way back to the church. One of the kids was asked to pray for our trip, which was very appropriate for a Ugandan highway littered with speeding taxi-vans, slow moving trucks, motorcycles darting every way, and scores of people on foot after dark, on the forty minute drive back to town.
As we went along all of the fifteen kids in our van began a time of praise and worship, which I love so much. Ugandans love to sing and most are gifted at it. Some of the songs were in English, but many were in Lugandan. Those I didn't know the meaning to, I asked. So many, especially the Lugandan songs, were beautiful melodies with beautiful words of praise and worship.
If you've never been to the Third World, the believers here have a hunger for God, borne out of dependence. In years past, I've described the amazingly beautiful, passionate worship times in some of the churches here. This year has been no exception ---something I will also really miss. With our affluence in the West, we see ourselves as self-dependent and often don't look to God for our needs. Most of the world does not have that "problem".
As we reached the slum in which the church is located, the van-taxi was directed through dirt roads, actually no more than very rough footpaths, turning in places I thought a vehicle could not possibly go. Why we didn't high center several times, I still could not say.
My time here in Uganda is sadly drawing to a close. It has been so good spending time with the sponsorship kids, seeing those the ex-African Children's Choir kids I've toured with over the years, sharing the Gospel with my Muslim taxi driver friend I've known for so many years now, receiving so many beautiful greetings and smiles from the scores of kids in the slums I frequent here.
One of the sponsorship girls, while composing her letter to her sponsor, told me that she had been to the doctor last year and had been diagnosed with some health issues, but her mother had been unable to afford the prescribed medicine. We went together to a clinic near the church and got her those medications. Another girl wrote her sponsor to say she had done OK in school, but would have done better except that she can't see or hear very well! We are looking into what we can do for her as well.
As for my health, my bad hip remains borderline each day as to whether I can walk without a limp. Usually I can, though sometimes not. Our problems are relative.
Thanks to each of you that has been praying for me. please continue to lift me up for health, for safety in travels, for wisdom, and for Divine appointments.
Because of Him, Jay
In addition to the taxi minivans, the thousands of boda-bodas, (small motorcycles that carry people throughout the city) dart through the often heavy traffic, and can get you through the worst traffic jams. If you're willing to take the risk, they are a very efficient means of getting around.
Yesterday, we took the sponsorship kids for a day outting of swimming and fun at a beach alongside Lake Victoria. Thankfully, they also had two large pools, and much of my day was spent giving swimming lessons to most of those kids.
For such a day, we bought a lot of food, rice, meat, potatoes, and cabbage, that was prepared by the kids themselves, either over a charcoal or wood fire early in the morning.
I had brought a few extra swimming suits from back home, but still several kids didn't have them so, together with two of the older boys, I went to the huge open market in the heart of Kampala to buy a dozen more. I love that market, even though it is so expansive, one can easily get lost. It is said to be the largest open market in East Africa.
As we wound our way, navigating past the narrow paths of huge bags of beans, rice, various flours, vegetables and spices, we eventually came to the clothing area, where hundreds of sellers hawk their particular clothing types, calling out their prices.(most of which I now understand). Some sell men's trousers, some specialize in girls dresses, and yes, some even carry swim suits, all of them used, purchased in huge bales, usually from the U.S. Finding what we came for, the only thing left was to haggle over the price, which I also find enjoyable.
We reached the resort early in the afternoon and after a large lunch from the huge tubs of prepared food we had carried with us, the kids were off to change and from there, to the pools.
Trying to teach the basic facefloat, learning to kick at the edge of the pool, to hold your breath and open your eyes under water, for the twenty-eight swimming, only went so far, but most of them were determined to learn to swim.
We stayed until after nightfall, and after the minivan taxis that had been called, failed to materialize, we all started hiking, under an absolutely beautiful, starry, Ugandan night, toward the main road. Some were sent ahead on boda-bodas to try and compel other of these minivan taxis, that route along the raod between Entebbe and Kampala, to take us back to Kampala.
After negotiating a good price, we were on our way back to the church. One of the kids was asked to pray for our trip, which was very appropriate for a Ugandan highway littered with speeding taxi-vans, slow moving trucks, motorcycles darting every way, and scores of people on foot after dark, on the forty minute drive back to town.
As we went along all of the fifteen kids in our van began a time of praise and worship, which I love so much. Ugandans love to sing and most are gifted at it. Some of the songs were in English, but many were in Lugandan. Those I didn't know the meaning to, I asked. So many, especially the Lugandan songs, were beautiful melodies with beautiful words of praise and worship.
If you've never been to the Third World, the believers here have a hunger for God, borne out of dependence. In years past, I've described the amazingly beautiful, passionate worship times in some of the churches here. This year has been no exception ---something I will also really miss. With our affluence in the West, we see ourselves as self-dependent and often don't look to God for our needs. Most of the world does not have that "problem".
As we reached the slum in which the church is located, the van-taxi was directed through dirt roads, actually no more than very rough footpaths, turning in places I thought a vehicle could not possibly go. Why we didn't high center several times, I still could not say.
My time here in Uganda is sadly drawing to a close. It has been so good spending time with the sponsorship kids, seeing those the ex-African Children's Choir kids I've toured with over the years, sharing the Gospel with my Muslim taxi driver friend I've known for so many years now, receiving so many beautiful greetings and smiles from the scores of kids in the slums I frequent here.
One of the sponsorship girls, while composing her letter to her sponsor, told me that she had been to the doctor last year and had been diagnosed with some health issues, but her mother had been unable to afford the prescribed medicine. We went together to a clinic near the church and got her those medications. Another girl wrote her sponsor to say she had done OK in school, but would have done better except that she can't see or hear very well! We are looking into what we can do for her as well.
As for my health, my bad hip remains borderline each day as to whether I can walk without a limp. Usually I can, though sometimes not. Our problems are relative.
Thanks to each of you that has been praying for me. please continue to lift me up for health, for safety in travels, for wisdom, and for Divine appointments.
Because of Him, Jay
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