Category Archives: 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.

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.

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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.

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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…..

Things I’ve Learned in Africa

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Recently passed the half-way point of my video ministry trip to Bwindi, Uganda. I have adapted well, shot some nice video, have eaten just about everything put in front of me, have met scores of friendly people.

When I return to the states at the end of May, I will have some new habits, some of which may be life-changing. Let’s see:

I don’t need a hot shower every day. I don’t stink as bad as I thought I would. So unless I have a public appearance or a bad hair day, I may not shower.

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I don’t need clean underwear every day. Doing laundry in the jungle is tough. Washing clothes isn’t that hard, but DRYING them is. I brought with me about 8 packs of underwear and > 10 pairs of socks. I’ve been wearing each for three days or more. Started when my luggage was delayed in London. If it don’t stink, it says out of the sink.

Watch what I drink. A special treat here is a cold soda in the afternoon. Not exactly ice cold, but a cold Coke hits the spot. Hours later, I struggle to sleep. Is caffeine keeping me awake? I rarely drink cokes at home and will resume that practice.

Watch when I drink. Over a late supper, I’m drinking water. I drink more when I pop my daily anti-malaria pill. Hours later, I make more late-night trips than Boris Karloff. Reduce late-evening water consumption.

Overdose on patience. I’ve learned about “Africa time.” I’m a patient person but I’ve needed a megadose of patience here. Starting times for meetings, rehearsals slip by 30-45 minutes. Then meetings don’t end due to extended visitations. Enjoy the moment. Don’t worry, be happy.

Relate to everything. From the industrious ant to the comical red-tailed monkey, every creature has its place. Appreciate everything and everyone.

Flexibility is strong suit. Whatever I have planned for the day or the moment, be flexible. Something else could come up and steal the day. I was told on Monday by the hospital chaplain that I would deliver the homily at morning devotions today. I meditated on the scripture verses, prepared my reflection….then watched as another young man stood up to deliver his homily. I’m up again on Sunday, resurrection day.

My lessons are incomplete. There’s sure to be more in the next six weeks.

Extended Family

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The child’s shrill cry of “muzungu” heralded our trip down the hill, alerting others below that a pale-faced visitor was approaching.

I can’t believe Cleous drove the Toyota sedan up the steep, uneven path to begin with. It’s not like it has four-wheel drive. Still he pressed on as we lurched and rocked toward an appointment to meet his father at his compound. We parked because ahead was clearly just a footpath. Fortunately he chose discretion. As we got out of the car, we immediately were surrounded by a dozen children, half clothed and barefoot, interested in us.

This was their stomping grounds, as it was for Cleous a generation earlier. As we marched up the hill, the boys were in quick pursuit.

Patrick poses with Cleous' father and extended family.

Patrick poses with Cleous’ father and extended family.

In my second trip to Africa in nine months, I have made a point to accept and welcome each and every situation that comes my way. From sampling food, to standing amid a group of strangers, I believe I was sent here to see and experience all I can. Try it, you’ll like it, is my cry.

At his home, a tight, recently built structure on the outskirts of the town center, I was given a private room, overlooking the latrines and bathroom. Not a good idea to open the window.

I am very much a muzungu, at least in my definition. Somewhat clumsy in social situations, trying to find the correct or clever thing to say, whether in Rukiga or Lukonzo. Spoiler alert: I keep my iPhone handy with my growing list of appropriate phrases. I go along with everything. I eat everything on my plate. Even ask for seconds of obushera, a sorghum porridge, which is definitely not delicious.

As a spoiled westerner, sure, I prefer a nice flush toilet. In South Sudan, I eschewed the hole in the floor, for a raised seat, when arriving for the morning constitution. There was no such luxury in Kasese. Last year I was concerned about my aim and dropping my waste within my waistband. However, with my newfound serenity about these things I crouched to let it fly. Successfully, and on target, I might add. OK, enough about that…though I really could go on.

As we climbed toward the house, I noticed long glances as I walked past neighbors and their homes. We arrived, entered the front room and sat on comfortable chairs, with food awaiting beneath netting on the table. Though we had just come from his in-laws house and their feast, Cleous advised that it would be disrespectful not to sample the fare before us.

His father, Vincent, arrived for introductions. He has a serious mien. He’s now a peasant farmer having had a career in the public sector. Then the extended family showed up and filled the room. More introductions were made, and after rehearsing my line for at least 45 minutes, I managed, “Wasibire,” or good afternoon, in Lukonzo. Smiles and laughter. Did I say something wrong?, I would later ask my host. No, he said. There were surprised and pleased to hear me say that.

More friends and more introductions. Then gifts. An uncle presented me with his handmade walking stick. We assembled for some photos. Africans, I notice, are not keen on mugging for the cameras as their American counterparts. These are proud people in the photos.

So it’s time to return to the car and Kasese. Bags of fruit and vegetables were carried by members of our entourage down the hill.

At the car, it was time for another round of goodbyes. The children smiled for a photo by Cleous. As they were focusing on him, I managed a profile shot of their grinning faces.

When I mentioned that I would also like to take a photo–permissions are required in most settings–they quickly split.

In the car with the windows down to enjoy the soft sunshine and warm air. I can see and hear the children running alongside and behind us. We’re picking up speed as we nose toward the main road. They gallop after us, shouting after the visiting passenger.

Saturday Night Excitement

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A group of medical students dropped by to stay at the guest house tonight. Two are from Stanford, another from Canada, serving six weeks residency at public hospital in Kampala. They drove here to trek with the mountain gorillas, successfully. They were staying at one of the resplendent lodges nearby but left….due to mice in the rooms.

One of the girls was telling me about this on the patio before dinner and said they just had to leave. Of course, I had plenty of discretion NOT to mention the rodent infestation underway in my room. I walked in my quarters, turned on the light, and saw the critter climb the wall near my bed to his exit near the ceiling.

After dinner, I walked in again to get my head lamp, and the rat ran up the wall again. I told the manager, and he vowed to get the rat tonight, while I went to (my first) choir practice.

One of the guests shrieked when a lizard crawled from her pants while she was in the loo. I remarked to her that, heck, this is rural Uganda. There’s a lot to like about lizards. They help keep insects under control.

So imagine: the manager and two others in my room, waiting, chasing and clubbing at the critter, and rearranging the room in the mayhem, while in the adjacent dining room, the guests were cheerfully oblivious to what was going on next door, chatting up the staff doctors about the vagaries of clinical care in the jungle.

I find the scene so deliciously funny, so typically African. Great fun tonight.

And the mouse/rat lives on. For now….

Week Three Begins

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It is about 2:20 p.m. on Tuesday. We’ve had a couple of heavy thunderstorms already today. I’ve finished lunch and I’m sitting on the balcony overlooking the out-patient clinic at the hospital here. A baby is crying. Is it hungry or in some other kind of distress? Every day the patients line up to be seen.

The Bwindi Community Hospital is very critical to the local and nearby communities. Residents come from miles around to get health care. I spend most my days here observing the activities and meeting people who will help me get the video work I need. Other days I spend about a mile from here where outreach activities to the Batwa Pygmies is conducted.

The needs are great, the staff is busy and attentive. It really is something to witness.

I’m settling in, with the guest house staff and routine, and my colleagues. Most of the time things go well. Other times I get distracted, lose my place and dwell on my loneliness. But that wave passes and all is well again.

The hospital chaplain asked me to lead morning devotions on Monday. A friend said he wanted me to preach at his church, but first he must ask the pastor. Can’t believe this is God’s plan for me.

Like everything in Africa, it is hard here. But it is also beautiful, difficult, wonderful and poor. Infrastructure is virtually non-existent. I have water, a flush toilet at my disposal. Most here don’t have anything close.

I’ve shot some good video so far and I’m just getting started. I will travel next week to see a Ugandan teacher I met last year in South Sudan. I will stay with him and his family for two nights and then return. After Easter I plan to go to Rwanda for a couple of nights to visit a former Carmel High and York School cycling star.

I’m healthy, eating everything in front of me, which is starches and plantains, mostly.

Morning Commute

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The pre-dawn in Kampala is alive. Hours before the sun peaks over the horizon, government workers, students and other commuters are on the move.

The headlamps on cars, matatus and boda-bodas shine weakly on the already-crowded streets. Young girls, with orange blouses and white socks, set out for class along the side of the road, rehashing homework facts before the day’s lessons begin.

The only concession to urgency is the fact that they have left home early. The pace is relaxed. Like their peers in the West, they have appointments on their schedules. What they don’t have are private cars to school, public school buses, or the angst of trying to get somewhere on time.

This is a weekday morning in Africa. I am on my way to the airport to collect my baggage which is two days late from London. I’m thinking about how I can collect the luggage, then get through security in time to make my already-delayed flight to Bwindi.

As we speed past traffic toward our destination, the shadowy figures and vehicles move with a purpose but with patience. We will get there when we get there.