Tag Archives: uganda

The Ultimate Boo-Yah!

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It is the ultimate boo-yah! Celebrating Good Friday and Easter on the same day.

The phrase made popular by ESPN illustrates the fanaticism of sports fans, who agonize over their team at one moment before celebrating it at the next.

Today is April 18, 2014, Good Friday. It is a solemn day for Christians worldwide who remember the trial, pain and execution of Jesus Christ on the cross.

In Bwindi, Uganda, it is near the end of the week and there is an exodus of hospital staff and residents from the community. They are heading home for a holiday. It should be a quiet weekend in these parts.

To commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus and to celebrate his resurrection, a joint service will be held this evening in the hospital chapel. Good Friday. Easter. Back to back.

Boo! Yah!

We can’t experience the resurrection without first going to the cross. There we contemplate our own humanity, our sin, our rejection of God. For those who take the process seriously, it can be painful. Fortunately, they get Holy Saturday to respite and vigil in preparation for Easter Sunday.

Today in Bwindi, we get the intermission but it will be quick.

When the curtain rises, hearts will lift, the songs will be joyous, tears turn to smiles. One man gives his life for others. There is no greater love than this.

It’s more than a game. It’s God’s love for us.

Yah!

Greetings from Uganda!

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Am in my third week here and enjoying every minute. It is amazing to me how comfortable I feel. Familiarity really helps. Am taking some formal Rukiga lessons and have moments where I can riff pretty well….then I forget the simplest responses. Oh, to be human.

Spent weekend in Kabale visiting my friend, an incredible servant and host, Bishop Enoch Kayeeye. I have my own room, with a key, and an invitation to use as often as I like. Move books and clothes here, he says. “You are family.” Wow!

We are planning a week in DRC in early June to visit the Batwa. Should be a great experience.

Life in Bwindi is good. I live in a great house. Well, it is Dr. Scott and Carol Kellermann’s house located in the forest. I will use it until they arrive for the dedication of the Uganda Nursing School-Bwindi next month. The president and prime minister are invited. Hope to get a selfie with Ugandan President Museveni. When Scott departs I’ll return.

I love it here more than I thought. I am blessed each day. I am right where God wants me. Am very happy. An incredible time in my life. While I would love to share this with my mother, Cam, I do feel her presence nearby. She is with me.

Mukama nimarungi….ebiro byona. God is good…all the time.

April 8 Homily

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Muriregye ba sebo na ba nyabo…(Good morning, gentlemen and ladies)

Baranyeta Patrick…(My name is Patrick)

Mukama asiimwe! (Praise the Lord!)

Ndikwegw’orukiga (By the way I’m learning Rukiga)

I would like to deliver this message entirely in Rukiga. The Lord has blessed me in many ways…but speaking Rukiga is not yet one of them. And Rev. Bugaba said I did not have all day to tell my story.

I am very happy to be back in Bwindi and to worship with you. When I drove here from Kihihi a few days ago, I felt as if I had been gone for three weeks, instead of 10 months. I feel very comfortable here in Bwindi.

Nimpurirra nshemerirwe mononga. (I feel very happy)’

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Let me begin my story by saying I have been in the church my whole life. My father was a reverend in the Anglican Church in the US. As a boy I was active in the church, as an acolyte and in the choir. God marked me as one of his own.

As I grew older, into my 20s, God was not as important in my life. I was too busy building a career and supporting a wife.

It would last until my son, Dan, was born. A divine gift..another life not my own to care for and love. It was then God returned front and center into my life.

It is by God’s grace that I am standing here. My life’s plan did not include a trip to Africa until two years ago, when I went to South Sudan. I was in my mid-50s.
Right now, Bwindi is where I want to be.

For a change, I am living in the present, the here-and-now.

It hasn’t always been this way.

Paul tells us in Chapter 12 of Romans: Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is…his good pleasing and perfect will!

For most of my adult life I chased the American dream. That is a me-first proposition: Get a good education, take steps to further career, promote to better jobs, and gain new skills. God was not first in my life.

As young people beginning your careers I am sure you know what I mean.

In America, the work I did was how I defined myself and how society defined me. I was a TV sportscaster, a news producer, a civil servant worker. Only on Sunday would anyone call me a “child of God.”

On the “other side,” you meet someone and the first thing you ask is “what do you do?” You make a judgment of that person. Is he or she a doctor, a nurse, an administrator, or an athlete? It is as if we are human doings…rather than human beings.

Defining myself by what I do is a road to frustration.

Though prayer and scripture, I have been transformed. In the past, I would ask the Lord to bless my plans. See…God…I have this great idea. Would you bless it for me?

Today my priorities have changed. I do not seek to be first in my life. The old Patrick is falling away. Instead I am born again. I turn to God. I seek to be in alignment with God’s long-held plan for me. For if it is God’s plan it is already blessed. Because of that, I am more fulfilled and happy than ever.

It would not be my plan to travel to Uganda. Twice! My vision is small and limited. But the Lord removed the scales from my eyes. His plan for you and me is magnificent.

As the writer in 2 Peter put it: “… make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For whoever lacks these qualities is so nearsighted that he is blind, having forgotten that he was cleansed from his former sins. Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall.” (2 Peter 1:5-10 ESV)

I have a new focus: I am being directed and corrected by the Holy Spirit, with whom I have constant fellowship. I serve the Lord out of gratitude, in thanks for his faithfulness. I share my life with you and am interested in your lives…and those of others half a world away from home.

Earlier this year I traveled with a team of pastors, and doctors from Northern California to Amman, Jordan, where, as the lead pastor put it, we would “share in the pain of others.”

For a week we fellowshipped with refugees from Syria. We met with families in their apartments. Doctors examined adults and children, reviewed their prescriptions. These people have suffered greatly and have left their country with little more than the clothes on their backs. This is a humanitarian disaster.

Despite the hardship, and chaos that I witnessed, the spirit of Jesus was there…in our presence, in our prayers for our Muslim brothers and sisters. These people may not have a home, but they have hope in the Lord Jesus Christ, whom they know as the prophet Issa in the Qu’ran.

Mukama asiimwe! (Praise the Lord)

Hope is what I see and experience in abundance at BCH. The sick are being comforted and made well by your medical delivery system. Your operations continue to have an impact in Buhoma, Kanungu and beyond.

Let me close now with this prayer: Heavenly Father, breathe your holy spirit on Bwindi Community Hospital. Bless the men and women who serve BCH with compassion for others. Multiply their efforts, Lord, to restore health to those who suffer or ache this day.

Mukama nimarungi! Ebiro biyona (God is good!! All the time)

Authentic African Adventure

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It is the rainy season in Southwestern Uganda. Rain was falling gently, but steadily, on Monday. We had a plan to drive 50k to a settlement at Kitariro to inspect furniture made by the Batwa.

Even in the best of conditions, the roads in and around Bwindi are terrible. Rocky, pot-holes, loose footings. There are no gutters along the sides which sends water pouring across our path.

With the rain steadily increasing, I was watching Enos, our administrator, for signs that he might cancel the trip. No such luck.

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We set out, three of us on a bench seat in a Toyota pickup. The first minutes were slightly downhill so there were no incidents.

Rounding a bend, the rain intensifying, we saw a large delivery truck, stalled in mud, trying to reach the summit of a small hill. There was room alongside, so Enos decided to press on and see if we could clear this mess.

Once we started the incline, the tires grabbed at the mud-soaked pavement, spinning uselessly at times. We neared the incapacitated truck but the mud suddenly became too much and we were stopped.

Voices clamored about us. Men appeared from nowhere, offering to push our truck for 10000 Uganda shillings, about $5. We declined. Wow. Talk about an epic fail!

Nowhere to go now but back down the hill and try again. Not easy in this quagmire of a road. Chaos. Shouting. Down we went. To the bottom. To try again. In an hour.

In the end, we motored up again, got some manual help when the engine whined and the tires spun to put us over the summit.

We finally got to the Batwa settlement, met some friendly people, saw their woodworking center, then turned for home to retrace our steps.

at kitariro

“In the rainy season, this is to be expected,” Enos told me. I never would have made this trip, thus missing an authentic African adventure.

Life in the Familiar

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The drive to Bwindi was the final segment of my 28-hour journey from California to Uganda. Jumbo jets gave way to a prop plane and finally to a four-door sedan. The 40k road to my home was long but not as rough as I remembered.

The green hills and countryside were beautiful. Women, men and children walked along the road, stepping to the side to avoid two or four-wheeled vehicles.

kihihi trip

A year ago, my head was spinning. Everything was new: the people, the language, my routine.

So much is familiar now. It is as if I’ve been away for three weeks…rather than 10 months. My comfort level is high. I am delighted to be back among friends.

As my time here unfolds, I seek new experiences among the familiar. I will visit new communities and revisit others. I will greet friends, and try to remember the names of new faces. I will eat everything put in front of me.

I am in a safe place, aware of my surroundings. I am expectant of a great stay in Uganda and Africa in 2014.

Throttle Up…

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I lost my mother recently. A longtime family friend emailed me today and asked how I was and whether I was accepting of Cam’s sudden demise.

I feel pretty good but I think the loss is significant in ways I can’t yet explain. Unlike my father, David, with whom we had time to make our peace, this unexpected event really blindsided me, us. It represents closure, my parents are gone. Time is fleeting, time to be bold.

I had decided, through prayer, to double down, or throttle up, on my foreign mission work in 2014. It’s already happening with my trip to Jordan in January. Sent my Passport to DC today, to the Ugandan embassy, seeking visa for return trip. Amazingly, thanks to blessings from above, and naturally occurring relationships, it will be bigger and more productive than last year.

I’ve always had God in my life, always had dreams, always confident even if a bit timid or reticent. Now I am in alignment with his plans. I am ready, willing, able and determined. Throttle up.

Wholly Discontented

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I made an appointment to meet a pastor friend today to discuss my spiritual aches and pains in the wake of my mind-blowing, three-month mission trip to Africa. I shared with him how things seem different since my return, from relationships to corporate worship. There seems to be a gulf, or distance, between me and the people and things that were formerly so close to my heart.

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I shared with him how I think and pray constantly of my next trip abroad, to renew beautiful relationships with selfless servants in Uganda. I’ve kept up the email chatter back and forth across the continents and the ocean. They await me there. They ask me when I will return. Sounds good. Amazingly, there are even more opportunities for good video ministry work there. I recently met a friend of my mother’s at her church in Montclair, California. She helps support a mission in Uganda which battles poverty and the scourge of HIV/AIDS. There is mutual interest in how I can help her organization.

Once again, a video ministry opportunity opens up before me from my own sphere of influence.

Today I wanted to sort out with Pastor John the sense of conflict that it is inherent in my soul. Do I go, as I’m called to do, and as I want to do, to far off lands for mission and service? Or do I stay in my secure, ungated community, on the proverbial treadmill, living a life of quiet desperation? Obviously, there is no question for the answer is obvious.

Pastor John clapped his hands and praised the Lord for what he called my “holy discontent.”

We agreed that it marks a healthy process wherein my faith is tested and courage is summoned. It’s not unusual for us to be in conflict with the Lord. It’s in our DNA.

The Pleasure of Being

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For most of my adult life I have chased a dream. That meant taking steps to further my career, to promote into higher paying jobs, and gain new skills.

What I did was how I defined myself and how society defined me. I was a sportscaster, a news producer, a state worker.

All that is too narrow a definition for me.

Since I stepped off the career ladder, I have been transformed. I cannot be defined by what I do because that has all changed.

I have new focus: I am being. I am a world citizen. I am sharing my life and interested in the lives of others half a world away.

cleous family

I think of the selfless servants I met, joining others far from home, in austere conditions. I laughed and worked with them and I loved it.

My self interest is not important or relevant in Africa. Simply being is enough under those conditions.

It is my happiness.

The Invisible Man

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My first day back in the West didn’t turn out too well.

The day started out fine. I awoke in Entebbe about 4 a.m. anticipating my long flight to London, preceded by an unpredictable trip to the business office at the airport.

But it ended in loneliness, as if I didn’t exist.

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Joseph, my Ugandan driver, arrived about 25 minutes before our agreed upon departure time of 6 a.m. He told me he had trouble sleeping…he was concerned about getting me to the airport on time.

Joseph impressed me. He would have gone to any length, short of giving up his life, for me to complete my business and check in successfully and on time this morning. Then again, he may very well have given it all for me.

The flight out of Africa was smooth, uncrowded, a piece of cake.

Once I got on the ground at Heathrow, the obstacles came fast and furious. I called my friend, Rob, with whom I’d be staying, at work. He was incredulous over the fact that I arrived. “We weren’t expecting you until Friday.”

Really? A half dozen or more email were sent back and forth. They weren’t ready for the American invasion so I told him I’d get lodging for the night.

Got my bags, but they were both bulky and heavy, and difficult to transport along with my two handhelds through the Heathrow labyrinth. Why would that surprise me?

Trying to walk London streets at rush hour with about 100 lbs. of luggage became an ordeal. My mission was more difficult as I had no reservation for a room. I hailed a taxi, who recommended a hotel near Paddington Station.

At 5 p.m. commuters are out in force, so travel was slow. The hotel was booked. A Hilton Hotel was suggested, a two-block walk…not a simple task with the anvil-like baggage I was pulling. It was hard work for this mzungu, just in from the jungles. I stopped frequently before I was told, again, “we’re booked.”

A second taxi ride dropped me in an area close to Rob’s house, a fact that should win me some points.

The small hotel had a double room…upstairs. I lugged my weighty western excess up the stairs then set out for a supper.

There was a classic British pub nearby. Football was on the tele. Beer was flowing, food served. I had a beer, sat down, reviewed the menu…and waited. A second beer (hey, a long day!). Watched the game. Forty minutes passed without a waitress stopping by. I left.

A pizza oven nearby was full of young urban professionals. It was busy and I sat near the kitchen and waited. Gave it fifteen minutes without a look. Time to go.

After receiving care and feeding from those who struggle to provide for themselves, my inability to get a room, as expected, or consummate a dinner deal confused me.

Hardship suddenly showed up alongside, a stunning contrast to the glorious months just past. How do people see me now? Do I appear different? Am I here before you or am I invisible?

Here and Now

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As the hour of my departure from Bwindi grows near, I am already aware of what I will miss when I am gone. The loss will impact all my senses.

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Among of the things I like most about being in another country are the sounds, particularly the languages. In Uganda I’ve been exposed to no fewer than four different tongues. Locally, the local Rukiga (ru CHEE ga) language is prevalent, even though English is the official state language. I have learned a few simple phrases, using my ubiquitous iPhone to store responses to typical encounters. At morning devotions, some speakers will default to Rukiga. I may not understand a thing, but I admire their passion for the Lord.

From my room in the guest house, I hear conversations and laughter among the staff. It’s reassuring to me. Fellowship is good. When I traveled to Kasese, the local language was Lukonzo. I made a few entries on my electronic notepad so I could hold my own when greeted. Swahili is spoken throughout East Africa, particularly Kenya, and is used by soldiers here. Other Ugandan dialects help identify from which district the speaker hails.

No matter if I visited north or south of Bwindi, the menu was the same. Rice, beans, matoke (cooked plantain), posho (maize meal), irish potatoes. I’ve eaten everything put in front of me for the past three months. We’ve been served local, fresh fruit each day. The pineapples have been great. I want them regularly on my plate when I return.

Before I arrived I imagined the sounds I would hear from the winged and walking beasts. Bird calls, morning and night dominate. The red-tailed monkey makes a clicking sound when near, and a racket when bounding along the roof. Haven’t heard any gorilla grunts…was unwilling to pay for that privilege. I failed to anticipate the rodents.

The daily thunderstorm portends intense rain pounding on the metal roof. Conversations are muted through the rainy season. I’m fascinated by the downpours and stop what I’m doing to watch as they are so atypical of my California experience.

children

The women of Africa have to be among the most hard-working in the world. With babies wrapped to their backs, they cultivate the fields. They fetch the water. They collect wood for the fire. They transport almost everything atop their heads, with perfect balance and grace and, frequently, no shoes. It’s an iconic image of Africa…and one that never gets old.

I close my eyes and imagine I am anywhere. My ears and heart betray that indifference. This is the here and now of Uganda.

Angels Are Everywhere

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When I left home in February for three months in the Pearl of Africa, I was confident that I would be safe. I have taken reasonable precautions and have not been concerned about my physical safety. I am a prayerful person and believe in a faithful God that will lead me to secure places.

Having said that, today I got an email from the US Embassy reminding American citizens in Uganda of the “importance of practicing strong personal security habits. Regional terror groups including al Qaeda and al-Shabaab continue to threaten U.S. interests and other potential targets in Uganda.”

OK. Got it.

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Today, traveling to Buhoma from Kabale through the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, I had a real-life brush with death. It had been raining all morning and the dilapidated roads were especially muddy. My trusted Ugandan driver, Chris, with whom I have driven up and down the western side of the country without incident, slid into a right hand turn that took us right to the brink of an embankment. We had barely a yard to spare, the car poised on top of a shear drop and a certain demise.

I exhaled and said to Chris and Luke, our young Ugandan passenger, that God’s angels were surrounding us, confident of each and every syllable. They agreed.

No State Department emails or proclamations from the USA can protect me from my fate, but a healthy faith can tame the anxieties and allows me to walk confidently with God.

It’s About Relationships

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It’s all about relationships.

At home that means connections which can help build careers, business and romance. Be my Facebook friend. Follow me on Twitter. Leverage me and my posse on LinkedIn.

Here in Africa, relationships mean something else. It means, “time out.” Who are you? Tell me your story.

I have had a wonderful day with my brother in Christ, Barnabas. This morning I took my camera and tripod to morning devotions to record his homily, which was presented to staff and others in the Rukiga language. I’m working with the hospital chaplain on a video series of sermons/homilies to show to patients in their wards.

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Today, we also knocked out a video on Easter Carols I recorded several weeks ago. All I need is a DVD to which to output. (Um, why didn’t I bring a dozen?) He is helping me today with a transcript of some Batwa interviews. I’m showing him all my gear (excessive!) and planning how, together, we can do cool things.

His job is not to be my assistant. He has enough to do. He works as an education coordinator with the Batwa Development Program.

Before I left CA, I prayed that the Lord would put his persons in my path to help, protect and encourage me. Barnabas was among those who fetched me at the airport, thus one of the first I met, and has been a companion friend since. He is an outlier of sorts….he is always punctual, a rarity in this land of “African time,” when even doctors stroll in late to meetings, rehearsals, morning prayers.

He is prayerful, one of the gifted speakers during morning devotions. He is very smart, funny, charming. I pray that I can help encourage him to pursue his destiny. For instance, we have talked about how he could go to UK for education. Visas for the US are too hard to get these days.

He’s a quick study with video. He wants to learn. He can compose pictures, which isn’t for everyone. In short, he’s delightful. My brother of a different mother. If I return to Africa, I’d recruit him as a grip for future shoots.

I thank God for Barnabas.

Why the long faces…

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Every day a half-dozen young men, each with long faces, queue up on this bench, awaiting a date with the surgeon…for their circumcisions.

the bench

It is a good health practice, supported by Bwindi Community Hospital, to help them avoid the HIV/AIDS plague.

I find it a fascinating scene. The anxious young men, fumbling through literature, flashing a nervous smile.

My colleague in communications needled me and said “…maybe you should stop there for a touchup…”

Um, no…

Check Mates

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If life were a chess match, I was king for a day.

I’ve been in Kabale, about 90 hard kms from Bwindi, for a brief road trip to video a primary school run by a Northern California NGO.

As a bonus, I visited three Anglican bishops, including a couple of retired mitre-heads I previously met. All were generous in spirit and hospitality. Check.

My host, chauffeur and FB friend, David, is an archdeacon in the local Diocese of Kigezi. We began the day by visiting retired Bishop William Rukirande. We met in 1996 when I was editing “The Missionary” (how appropriate) for Bishop Jerry Lamb in the Diocese of Northern California. Bishop William attended the diocesan convention in Redding as a representative of our companion diocese in Uganda.

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I never forgot the name or his gap-toothed smile and being a few easy kms from his home decided to make a visit. Now in his 80s, Rukirande appears fit and relaxed. I told him several times how good he looked. His comfortable home sits on eight acres of grazeland for his 30 cows.

He and his wife served a fruit salad followed by obushera, a sorghum porridge that is, well, decidedly, not delicious.

obushera

After photos and goodbyes, it was off for the school for orphans. We were met outside by delightful kindergarteners, chanting and singing for us. An assembly of P1-P5 students greeted us with song and introductions. I got nice video from these poised pupils.

We ended the day with a short drive to see retired Bishop Enoch Kayeeye. He was one of the first people I met when I arrived in Kampala in mid-February. I could see him coming from a mile away, given his bishop’s outfit, topped by the distinctive fuschia-colored shirt.

I neglected to call to inform him of my visit so my arrival to his house was a surprise. He is a delightful man, very welcoming. We had a nice conversation and when he mentioned his work with the Batwa pygmies, I called time out.

“Can I get my camera and tripod from the car?,” I asked. He agreed and 17 minutes after I asked my first and only question, we adjourned for refreshments.

Across three continents I carried a letter of introduction from my local bishop, Barry Beisner, to Bishop George Katwesigye.

bp george

We met in his office at the Kigezi diocese’s headquarters, on a hill overlooking Kabale. He has been to Northern California several times and we have several mutual friends. We spoke of our respective ministries and discussed issues facing the church in Uganda and the US.

Like the others, he was gracious and welcoming and invited me to join him for a meal my next time in Kabale, which is likely to come in the next few weeks.

None of these visits was planned before I arrived in Uganda but through providence and prayer, friendships were strengthened and fellowship was shared.

Check mates…..