maybe time travel is possible after all

I’ve just returned from Ethiopia. For four years in high school I had a good friend whose parents had come to the States from Ethiopia as young people and had ended up staying there to raise their family. This friend and his entire family were brilliant, striking and interesting. This friendship probably made Ethiopia the first African country that I started to understand as its own unique country and culture, rather than just a name of a place on a continent where I vaguely thought there was mile upon mile of sameness.

Eight years after I last saw this friend, I took my first trip to Africa and began to fall in love with the people, the culture, the diversity of the various countries I visited. But still I had never made it to Ethiopia. That took nearly another eight years.

My Ethiopian friends tell me now, however, that it didn’t take me quite as long as I thought. Proudly declaring that they have “13 months of sunshine,” Ethiopia’s calendar runs separately of the calendar I have always known. This past September, the country celebrated the millennium. The typical jokes they receive about running very late are countered with a reminder that we should be very glad to know that in Ethiopia we are 7 years and 9 months younger than usual.

Using this same logic, we figured out that since my first visit to Africa occurred when I went to Tanzania in 2001, and it is right now 2000 in Ethiopia … well, my first country to visit in Africa was Ethiopia! Are you sufficiently confused?

Among the Ethiopian people you find a wonderful range of skin tones, from a light yellow-brown to stunning purple-black. And everywhere you see big, open, friendly smiles that are in pleasant contrast with their soft-spoken, gentle, deferential demeanors.

Coming to Ethiopia after visiting and learning about many other countries and cultures over the last decade, I find myself using these others as a reference to describe what I found there. Soft-spoken voices, striking traditional clothing, spicy sauces and an emphasis on education that bear strong resemblance to India. Music, dance and language reminiscent of the Middle East. The wide white smiles of East and West Africa. Independently courting and marrying a spouse of one’s choosing (and often waiting till one’s late-20s to mid-30s to do so) like so much of the West -- and so UNlike almost all their neighbors.

All these comparisons served to help me at once contextualize this culture I was visiting and also appreciate how unique and “other” this beautiful country is – as indeed every country is, if we only can take the time to recognize it. Much as I have grown to enjoy the familiarity and understanding that comes with going back to places like Uganda and Tanzania and now Rwanda again and again, this trip also allowed me to remember how much fun it is to experience a new place as well.

English is quite widespread in Ethiopia, which I find extremely impressive. The Ethiopian alphabet is a series of characters -- with the same roots as Arabic and Hebrew -- called Amharic. As I understood the description, the alphabet consists of twenty-something consonant-type starting sounds, each with seven possible vowel-type following sounds. Combined, these make up all the possible sounds of the language, so Amharic is entirely phonetic.

In the good schools, by seventh grade the students’ day is entirely in English. Which means that by 13 these children have learned not only a whole new alphabet, but an entirely different spelling and pronunciation system. Trying to fill my head with Kinyarwanda at the moment, I found that I could never really get past “salam” -- or “hello” -- in my Amharic lessons on this trip.

I did learn one other … well, not word exactly. I guess you’d say I learned one more sound. I remember traveling to India a few years ago and being a bit confused when I asked questions only to get a response of head-bobbing that was a sort of a cross between a US “no” and “so so,” accompanied by a verbal “yes.” After a few days I realized that this was how they nodded yes in India. I thought of this again during this past week in Ethiopia.

Within my first few hours there, the person to whom I was talking had a quick intake of breath. I paused for a moment because it was the kind of sound I often make when I’ve suddenly thought of something that I forgot to do. However, she seemed to be waiting for me to continue and so I did. Only to have her gasp similarly several times through the rest of the conversation, making me decide that she was having hiccups.

In a bit, I was conversing with someone else. Same thing. I would be sharing some detail only to have them respond with that sudden “hhhhp.” More hiccups? Next I overheard one side of a phone conversation and there it was again. And I finally realized that this is a sound of agreement. It’s a “right, I’m listening, I’m right there with you” sort of sound. Even once I figured this out though, it still caused me to pause at times, waiting for them to say something like “I forgot to turn the oven off!”

Another one of those funny language/interpretation differences right here in Rwanda is the word for no: oya. It is pronounced almost exactly like the US informal “oh yeah” — in other words, “yes.” It can get especially confusing among people who speak what I’ve decided to call Kinyarwenglish, which is fairly common due to the number of people who have returned to Rwanda after years in the US, Europe and neighboring English-speaking countries like Uganda and Kenya. Tone becomes essential in figuring out if they are agreeing or disagreeing.

Much as I enjoyed my time (and the people and the coffee and the food) in Ethiopia, I found myself looking forward to returning to Rwanda. Each time I travel somewhere and then return here once again it seems to help this feel a little more like home. My house is still empty, but as I write this I am sitting on the front veranda of my little house, looking out at the trees and flowers and shrubs of my own place, and the hills of Kigali stretching out beyond my gate. The air is pleasant and the view is beautiful and I’m happy to be here.

three crazy days

I know, I know -- two posts in one week! The mind reels. But truly, the last 72 hours have been such a sequence of crazy, sometimes dramatic, sometimes humorous events that I feel like I have to put them down on “paper”.

I will start back on Tuesday night, which as I mentioned before was my first night in my new house. What I did not mention before was what I managed to do during my first half hour in the house. I’m going to tell about it now because it seems to be the moment when the week started going, as Joe would say, all pear-shaped.

Because I don’t have most of my things at this point, I’m continually making due with not-quite-the-right-tool for various jobs. One thing I did not have (and needed) on Tuesday night was scissors. So I was using a knife to open some packaging. Some of you may be already starting to cringe as you see where this is going.

I will spare you the details, but suffice to say that I cut myself rather badly across one of my right-hand fingers. Unsure where to even go to see if I needed stitches, I washed it as thoroughly as I could and went in search of my little first aid kit. Remember that I had just hauled all my things over to the house and because I was only moving a few minutes away, I hadn’t bothered to pack with much of an organizational plan. Meaning that I really had no idea which bag I had thrown the first aid kit into.

So there I was trying not to bleed all over everything, having the use of only one hand, looking through every single suitcase, plastic bag, etc, in search of some antibiotic ointment and a few bandaids. I did eventually get myself bandaged and the mess cleaned up. Though I’m staying away from knives for a few days and now have a pair of scissors at home. (Let me pause here to say that after a couple of swollen, sore days, the finger is healing quite well now -- just so you’re not left wondering…)

Wednesday morning was humorous and slow as I tried to get ready for work still with only the use of my left hand. But otherwise it was uneventful. In the evening, I went to buy a surge protector/extension cable for my electric oven, since the plug couldn’t quite reach to the outlet. It will become evident in a bit how ironic the word “protector” is in the previous sentence.

I then spent a bit of time with Chantal making a list of Kinyarwanda words with their English translations. I’ve been wanting to do this since I arrived but finally got desperate enough to make it a priority when I moved into my house. You see, Baptiste, who I told you a little about previously, decided to join me at my new house when I moved. He helps around the house and garden a bit, but more importantly provides security since I live alone and travel frequently. Baptiste does not speak English, so we’re quite a funny pair at times. Since my learning of Kinyarwanda is driven by necessity my vocabulary is probably a bit funny at the moment – “rubbish” (umwanda, if you’re interested) was among the first words I learned.

Wednesday night I set about making dinner, excited to cook my first real meal in the house. Only to realize that the tomato paste I had bought required a can opener to get into it. And I don’t have a can opener. Now, I know cans can be opened with knives but we know my history with those at the moment, so I was reticent to try. But I also wanted to eat. So I stood there looking at the knife and at the tomato paste. Thankfully at that moment I was rescued by Baptiste (of course this whole knife thing does nothing to help his view of my kitchen abilities…) who opened the can effortlessly.

Thursday rolled around. I worked. I drove home. Baptiste was out running an errand so I parked the car outside the gate, got my key, opened the little door in the gate and opened the gate. This was my first time to do this by myself and I was very aware of how much amusement I was providing for the security guards across the street as I attempted to look nonchalant and experienced as I struggled through the process. Successfully got the gate open only to find that I had locked the keys inside the truck. Sheepishly, under the stares of those security guards, I wrestled the gate closed again.

Thankfully, my phone was not in the truck so I was able to ring a man called Samuel, who had a spare key, to come rescue me (I am borrowing a vehicle at the moment, since I won’t have one of my own until April). That is not a fun phone call to make though, especially when it is dinnertime for the person you’re calling.

Waiting for Samuel, I decided to work on dinner myself. “Why not test out my oven?” I thought, and got some toast ready to put under the grill. The instructions said to let the grill heat for 10 minutes before using it. During those 10 minutes, Samuel arrived. We visited outside for a few minutes, he unlocked the truck, and I pulled it inside the gate.

Walking back into the house, there was a funny smell. I walked into the kitchen to find smoke. Thinking it was just caused by using the oven for the first time, I opened the oven just to make sure there was nothing wrong. When I suddenly realized that the smoke wasn’t coming from the oven at all, but from the cord of the surge “protector”!! Quickly unplugging and moving things, we got the smoking cord out of the house, and miraculously there was almost no damage to anything else.

Friday (today) rolled around. About 10 minutes after I awoke, my phone started ringing. Barbara, with whom I work, had tried to come into the office early but was locked out -- due to a string of circumstances I won’t go into here. After my little episode last night I was hardly in a position to be upset about it, so threw on some clothes and headed out the door, trying to gesture to Baptiste that I wasn’t leaving for the day, but would be back momentarily. To the office I went, dropped off my key (the one that only works from the outside, if you recall…) and was back home again.

At lunchtime, I had arranged for someone to come to the house to look at something they're working on. Chantal was also meeting me there. Moments after arriving at the house, there was shouting in the street. It was a security guard from one of the houses a little ways down from me. Chantal translated that a child from that house was very ill and they had no transportation to the hospital.

We ran down to the house, where I met my first neighbor, Raffa. Her family is from Madagascar and thankfully she speaks English so we could quickly confer. Within a couple of minutes she and her small son were in my truck and we were headed to the hospital.

Raffa’s husband had been called from work and he was able to meet us there just a few minutes after we arrived. I left them there with their little son in a bed and the doctors talking with them and examining the child. I hope to stop by their house tonight to find out his status, so I will try to give an update soon.

Now I am finishing things up at the office before I head to Ethiopia tomorrow for a week. Next week I won’t be cooking, arranging the house, or driving, so maybe things will be a bit calmer. Incidentally, after my lunchtime experience today I know where to go if I ever need stitches.

presidents and houses and gas tanks

This photo doesn't have anything to do with this post, but I just loved the look on Arienne's face. At 18 months, she and Dorcas (in pink) are always very busy.
here a president…

Well, friends, I had intended to say hello again before now but I found myself without an internet connection for most of last week while I was visiting Uganda. Then I got back and was catching up on email so still no blogging for me. So here I am now, but some of my news is perhaps a little old.

You may have heard that on Tuesday, February 19, President George Bush was visiting Kigali, Rwanda. I had heard he was touring Africa, but hadn’t thought much about how it might have anything to do with me. What I didn’t realize is that in a country the size of Maryland, such a visit would affect everyone.

That morning, I got into work by the skin of my teeth before they closed the road outside the office in preparation for the motorcade from the airport to the U.S. Embassy. Mbanda, who I work with, was a couple of minutes behind me and not quite as fortunate. He was forced to take a bumpy detour to get to the office the back way.

I sat at my desk and watched out the window as dozens of Suburbans, Land Cruisers, press buses, police vans, trucks full of Rwandese soldiers and various other vehicles drove by. I tried to decide which one of them the President was most likely to be inside. The ones with flags? Too obvious? The procession drew quite a crowd, both inside the office and along the street.

I was flying to Uganda that evening, so headed home in the early afternoon to pack and prepare for my trip. I was supposed to meet the taxi at my office at 4:30 PM. I hadn’t thought to ask the President about his schedule when I made these plans. At 4, I decided to head to the office (usually a 5-minute drive) to check email one last time before flying out. Only to find that the road had been closed for the President’s return to the airport. The next half hour was a mini-adventure on a narrow, very rutted dirt road that I was sharing with entirely too many cars, not to mention swarms of people, all trying to go about their business without the use of the main road.

As a fan of “West Wing,” I knew all about Presidential motorcades (in the same way that I know all about medicine because of “ER” and all about how to take a case to trial from “Law & Order”…). But what they never showed on “West Wing” was what was happening on all the side streets and how it affected all the lives and schedules of the people who would usually be on that road.

…there a president

I did successfully make my flight to Uganda, where I spent a nice week with my regional team (we’re scattered across 7 countries so we’re not all in the same place very often) -- as well as Joe! I won’t go into the long explanation of why he was invited, but suffice to say it was wonderful for me to get to share a bit of Uganda with him. If I’m counting correctly, this was the sixth country we’ve met up in during the last year -- aren’t we quite the international pair?

On our last day in Uganda, Joe had joined some people for a little sightseeing and I was having a late lunch meeting with some of my team. Security had been heightened during the previous 24 hours as rumors of a visit from Uganda's President Museveni made the rounds of the hotel.

I headed down the steps from lunch just a few minutes ahead of the rest of my group only to be met by an entourage of about 50 people -- led by Museveni himself! It took me a moment to recognize him outside a photograph, and perhaps it wouldn’t have clicked if he hadn’t been looking very closely at me with an expression that said “how did you get there?” I’m fairly certain security was not supposed to let me down the steps just then and I’m fairly certain that the look on my face also said “how did I get here?”

It was an interesting moment.

home sweet (empty) home

I spent my first night in my new house last night! Because the floors are tile, the walls cement and the ceilings a bit high, I’ve been wandering around singing loudly and enjoying hearing it reverberate off everything. On the flip side, at the moment the only room I can successfully talk on the phone in is the bedroom, where the bed and my clothes absorb some of the echo.

Chantal helped me piece together a bed, some sheets, towels, pots and pans to last me until my own belongings arrive in mid-April. Since I bought my stove, refrigerator and washing machine on arrival, at least I can cook and wash clothes in the meantime. Yesterday I bought buckets and mops and rags and all the other things that aren’t very fun to spend money on, but which are sort of important nonetheless.

After being in a variety of hotels and temporary housing since I left Colorado, I keep having to remind myself that I’m finally home. That I likely won’t be packing all these things up and shifting them again for a good long while.

As I work at setting up my life here, I find myself often comparing and contrasting the experience with what it would be like had I just moved to another US town, rather than across the world. There are challenges: hunting all over town for a used, empty gas tank to buy for the stove so that I can trade in my “empty” for a full one. Making me realize how amazing it is that there’s just a line that comes into the house in the West without anyone having to think about where the gas is coming from or whether it’s getting low.

There are also benefits. The plumber was at the house fixing another issue yesterday when he noticed I needed a longer pipe for the washing machine and gave me a very reasonable price for which he could fix it for me. By lunchtime today it was fixed, and cost me exactly what he’d said it would. No setting up an appointment a week from now and giving me a 3-hour window of time in which they would show up, and then adding on various and sundry costs that somehow hadn’t been included in the estimate.

And while Mexican food, which I love, may be hard to come by here, mangoes and avocados the size of melons are not hard to come by. And I love those too.

practically a local now

I ask you, who can resist a face like that?

As day 20 in my new country gets under way, I find myself amazed that I’ve already been here for that long. While in some ways I feel like I’ve already been away along time – for instance, it seems like ages since I’ve seen those I said goodbye to in Colorado – at other times I feel like I still just got here. So the fact that we’re already headed toward the end of February is a little crazy to me. (I realize there is still more than a week left in the month, making me sound perhaps a bit like my dad, who we tease sometimes because at 6:15 he will tell you it’s almost 7:00, and about 2 weeks into a new year he’ll tell you there are "only" 11.5 months left. Hi, Dad!)

This week was a little rough at times. It wasn’t actually that anything bad happened. It was more just all the little things that added up over the week that reinforced my realization that “we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” I’m in that strange place of knowing that my residence is now Kigali, Rwanda, but feeling like most of my life is still back where I came from. Supposedly, two weeks after a move is when homesickness and culture shock can really set in. And much as I hate to just be a statistic, maybe they know what they’re talking about.

Lest anyone worry about me, I really am fine, and overall, very excited by all that is happening. And by the weekend much of the melancholy of the week was already gone. It’s just an interesting process, to be able to stand back and analytically identify the “why” of how you're feeling without being able to subsequently just stop the feeling itself.

Anyway… that’s far more than enough psychoanalysis for one post.














So many babies, so little time... Seemed like a waste to hold one at a time when I have two arms!!

On Monday afternoon, we had a fairly spectacular thunderstorm. So spectacular that it knocked out our router and we struggled with a lack of internet connection for the rest of the week. Thankfully I had the option of driving over to the Rwanda field office from time to time to download messages and send out replies. For those in the office with desktop computers this wasn’t an option and since much of our work is interacting with offices in other countries, it was a pretty frustrating week for them. They handled it with a lot more grace than I think I could have.

These situations do have a way of altering our perspective though. Coming from the high-speed connections of the States, previous to the storm I’d been tapping my toes a bit impatiently at times waiting for pages to load or documents to send. But after a week of no connection, I find this connection to be just fine! Tempted as I am to pat myself on the back, I figure I better see how long my new-found patience lasts before I get too carried away.

On Saturday I finally got myself properly oriented with where a lot of things are in this city. I was tired of just dipping my toes in the kiddy pool – I decided to go for broke and dive into the deep end. (How’s that for mixing several tired metaphors?)

Two co-workers – Alemayehu from Ethiopia and Amy from the States – were in town, and we decided to meet for lunch. After several attempts to find out exactly where their hotel was located, which left me more geographically confused than ever (street signs do not abound in Kigali), we settled on having them take a taxi to a place we all knew, and I drove us to the restaurant from there.

After a nice lunch, Aleymayehu needed to go back to the hotel to collect his bags and head to the airport. Rather than putting him back in a taxi, I asked if he thought he could direct me back to the hotel and he said yes. So off we went, twisting and turning our way (it was every bit as confusing as it had sounded). We got there just fine. I had the distinct feeling, however, that I couldn’t repeat the process.

Since a driver was already arranged to take Aleymayehu to the airport, we said goodbye there and with instructions regarding how to get to a nearby artisan market, Amy and I headed out again. After successfully bargaining for a few things at the market, we went in search of coffee.

Coming to an intersection, I turned vaguely in the direction I thought we had come from earlier. “Do you know where you are?” Amy asked. “No,” I said, “but I think I’ve been on this road before.” It didn’t sound convincing, I realized, but we continued on and I was relieved when I suddenly saw the first supermarket Chantal had taken me to, a couple of weeks ago.

I wasn’t positive where it was in relation to other things, but it was a start! Amy was a wonderful sport and kept me company for the next several hours as I worked out how to get from there to the community where I’ll be moving once my house is ready, to a coffee shop I’d visited the week before, and so on. By the end of the day, the city had begun to make sense in my head and I was even able to get her back to her hotel and myself back home from there. So thanks for the moral support, Amy!

Tonight I head to Uganda for several days of meetings. After months of crazy moving logistics, I find myself planning for this trip as nonchalantly as I previously would have done for a jaunt from Colorado Springs down to Pueblo to visit my sisters for the weekend. I have traveled to Uganda often – it is a place I love and know quite well. So after three weeks of constantly new experiences, perhaps it’s the next best thing to a quick visit home.

I feel like I’ve rambled on and on this time, so I don’t blame you if you gave up somewhere along the way. This is what happens to me when I don’t have Skype for a week, I guess!

If I have time, perhaps my next “hello” will be from the Pear – oops, I mean the Pearl – of Africa! Until then…

maybe it's sinking in that i'm not just here for a visit

So, as many of you know, my favorite photo subjects are almost always children. There are plenty of beautiful little faces around me, so you'll probably be seeing a lot of them!

These two friends, Fabiola (L) and Maria, live at the first New Hope Home started by Chantal and are two of the oldest children.

refrigerators and bank accounts

Another week! Among the week’s notables was the fact that it was the first time I worked from the office every day in at least five months and possibly longer. I’m not a very good cubicle-dweller, so this might be an event to mourn, rather than to celebrate – ha!

As I was getting ready for my move, I spent a lot of time going to offices and businesses during the day to take care of various moving details and then doing my work and answering emails late at night, thanks to the wonderful world of telecommuting. So going into the office for eight hours and then going home and not working until the following day has been a novelty.

Among the other things I did this week: going to see the house where I’ll be living – very exciting! I’m especially excited by the nice big yard around the house. I also bought a refrigerator and stove, as well as a couple of plates and cups, so that even before the rest of my things arrive from the States I can at least eat – priorities, you know.

Chantal and her sister-in-law Joiesse (again, I’m guessing at this spelling) took me shopping for my appliances, which helped tremendously. While I’m actually fairly good at bargaining, having no idea what the going rate for an item is makes it a bit difficult to bargain. And I set up a bank account. This isn’t really exciting, I realize, but again it was the novelty of the situation. The bank was open for regular business hours on Sunday so that’s what I did after lunch yesterday.














This beautiful little girl, Deborah, also lives at the first home.














As the oldest infant at the second home, Mbabazi (approx 9 months old) is Queen of the Babies.














And here she is with her royal subjects: (L-R) Daniel, Moses, Prince (yes, Prince), and one more young lady whose name escapes me as I write this...

adventures in the kitchen

I also did a bit of cooking. I enjoy cooking and have done quite a bit of it over the years. Though I’m not sure I’m ever going to convince Baptiste of this. Baptiste is a very kind, soft-spoken, smiley man who helps out around Chantal’s home. We can say hello and how are you to one another and then his English is exhausted so we mostly communicate through signs and pointing.

The one time I tried to say a word to him in Kinyarwanda, he smiled and said, “You speak Swahili?” In my defense, I knew it was a Swahili word I’d used, but I thought it was also used in Kinyarwanda. I was wrong. All in all, we get on quite well. He just doesn’t trust me in the kitchen. Perhaps deservedly if you look at the facts from his perspective.

One day I’d had a quick bite of lunch and decided I’d wash my few dishes up. There was a rag and a sponge in the sink. I picked up the rag, added a bit of soap and started washing, just as Baptiste walked in. With a big smile he started gesturing that he would do it. I told him it was no problem. When I insisted, he came over, took the rag out of my hand and placed the sponge in it instead. He also picked up the soap bottle and squeezed some on, just to be on the safe side, I think.

It turns out that I was washing the dishes with the rag he only uses for wiping the counters. Baptiste is a use-only-a- sponge-for-washing-dishes kind of guy, evidently. I walked away from the encounter fairly certain that Baptiste thought that was my first experience washing dishes.

Fast-forward to breakfast the next morning, when I decided to scramble myself a couple of eggs. When Baptiste saw me get out a skillet, butter and two eggs, he walked over and got a small bowl and a fork, so I could scramble them. I realize that might be the most traditional way to scramble eggs and if I’d just gone ahead and done it that way, perhaps I could have reassured Baptiste that it wasn’t my first time cooking.

But the truth is, I prefer melting a little butter, breaking the eggs directly into the skillet and letting the whites whiten a bit before starting to scramble them. I thanked Baptiste for the bowl, then stubbornly pressed on and gestured that I was going to do it differently. He smiled at me, shrugged a little, and opened the drawer to get the crazy woman in his kitchen a spatula so she could stir her strange eggs.

Add the fact that I’m still learning where items are kept in the kitchen, still getting used to the gas burners I’m cooking on, etc, and none of this has done anything to help convince Baptiste that I can find my way around a kitchen. Now, when I start anything, he stands at my shoulder for the first 10 minutes or so, to make sure I can find things, know how to turn things on and off – and perhaps to make sure I don’t burn the house down.














This one is here just because I love it. The infant is Baby Sarah, from last week's post. I had been taking close-ups of Sarah just previous to this photo, while her "Mama" held her.

Then one of the aunties suggested I take a picture of both of them. The mama hesitated but then agreed. So here they are: the youngest and oldest members of New Hope Home 1, together.














Several of the children and babies, one of the mamas, Chantal (standing on right), one of the aunties, and another friend all enjoy one of the newly finished sitting rooms.

fresh paint and brownies

In spite of Baptiste’s doubts, I did successfully make a couple batches of brownies that we took to Chantal’s kids on Sunday afternoon. Chantal and I had been talking about things we’re familiar with from the States that can easily be made here. (Incidentally, you can buy almost everything here – it’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to spend. The price tag on anything that has to be imported can be shockingly high.)

I told her about a brownie recipe our family has always used and we discovered that we had everything we needed to make them – yea! So she suggested we make some as a treat for all the children. Of course, we kept some for ourselves too…

Over the last week, both current homes as well as the new one have been getting fresh coats of paint on the walls and floors and the children have gamely allowed themselves to be shuffled from room to room and house to house as this happened. While the paint finished drying, Chantal and I spent much of Saturday afternoon arranging furniture.

The brownies were in part to celebrate the fact that after several days of upheaval, the kids were all back in their own beds and able to go freely from room to room in their homes. They were a big hit.














I just love the "Sunday afternoon picnic" feel of this photo. Rosemary and Enosa decided to make themselves comfortable while they ate their brownies. Enosa just arrived at the home on Thursday, but judging from this photo he seems to be settling in just fine.

By the way, the brownie recipe, for those who are interested, is:

2 cups sugar
1 cup butter (I did not say they were healthy brownies)
2 eggs
6 tablespoons cocoa
1 teaspoon vanilla
pinch of salt
2 cups flour

Bake in a 9x13 pan at 350 degrees (F) for about half an hour. Enjoy!

I'm continually thinking of all my family and friends who I left in Colorado -- as well as the many of you who are scattered all over various other parts of the world! I end this sending lots of love to all.

week one in rwanda

This will be a post of several random stories that aren’t necessarily connected. Little bits and pieces that I noticed or that amused me in the last few days. The things that happen that I’m always wanting to tell someone about and don’t quite get around to it. It will probably get long, so I’ll divide them by subject so you can leave off reading whenever you need to.

1) The first item is not actually connected to Rwanda specifically but to East Africa generally. In my role, I get copied on hundreds of emails every week about the various trips and stories and activities that I’m at least loosely involved with or connected to or overseeing in the field offices. Today, I read a very kind email from a US staff person who had recently been to Uganda and was following up on some issues from the trip. The greeting said that the person hoped all was going well in the Pear of Africa.

This individual meant, of course, the Pearl of Africa – Uganda’s nickname – but the typo made me smile and laugh and shake my head because it was so representative of the type of (mis)communication that is continually happening in this work that we do, where thousands of people from dozens of cultures are interacting and trying to meaningfully work together. So often, when we are trying our hardest to be significant and relevant, we have our silliest moments.

I’m very happy to say that on February 23 I will travel to the Pear of Africa for some meetings.

2) Sunday I went to church with my hostess, Chantal. She is a beautiful, amazing woman whose family fled Rwanda before she was even born but who is finally as an adult living out her dream to return to her homeland. I am boarding at her house until my permanent housing is available in March.

Chantal looks after me, drives me around, gives me advice, warns me, supports me, tells me stories, laughs. She is 6 feet tall and is the shortest person among her husband and 3 children. Her husband is the VP for Compassion Africa. She runs incredible homes for orphaned and abandoned children because she “wanted to be doing something significant. Not just be the wife of someone doing something significant.”

We went to a church service entirely in Kinyarwanda (Rwanda’s native language), which I don’t yet speak, so I had plenty of time to watch people and think. The music and dancing were wonderful, the children were beautiful, the women were dressed in their absolute best and then some. There was an earthquake in western Rwanda during our service. We didn’t really feel it, but we did lose power as a result. The pastor’s wife said it was just God telling us he was there.

The chairs were laid out in a sort of horseshoe so I could watch everyone directly across from me without even appearing to be staring. Which is how I came to see the man reading all the Scriptures. It seemed to be his designated job. He was wearing this amazing suit reminiscent of men’s suits when they were on holiday in the 1920s. It was linen (I think) and made up of wide white and beige stripes. He was tall and lanky and loved to dance during the singing. I couldn’t stop watching him.

3) Also at the service, they asked for all visitors to stand. My immediate family and close friends know the dread this instills in me. I can’t give a good explanation of why. I realize I’m generally an outgoing person. But something about telling everyone to greet the visitors or asking all the visitors to identify themselves at a church service has always given me a brief feeling of panic.

Over the years, my defense mechanism became just ignoring the request. I would sit there and smile and try to look like I belonged while all the visitors stood. However, in a service of several hundred where I was the only white person, this was not really an option.

“They’re asking all the visitors to stand,” Chantal translated for me. “No,” I said before I realized what I was saying. “Yes,” she said, and smiled. And she must have seen the flash of terror across my face because she firmly pushed me upward by my elbow and said, “You can do this.”

And I could do it, of course. The doing is never as bad as the dreading. And there were plenty of other people who also stood. But all the same, I was pretty sure I was glowing as I stood there for the required 20 seconds.

4) I got locked into my office yesterday. I’ve been told there is a book about Africa called The Man with the Key Has Gone. I have no idea exactly what the book holds, but the title is fabulous.

If you’ve ever spent time in a developing country, you may be familiar with this key phenomenon. One could think of many possible reasons why this is the case, but whatever the reason, anything resembling an office – or for that matter, any room that might possibly hold something that someone might, at some point, want – gets locked.

If you think I am kidding or exaggerating, let me only say this: the bathroom stall that Barbara (the only other female in my office) and I share must be locked when neither of us is in it. I dutifully take the key from its nail, unlock it, lock myself in, take care of my business, unlock myself and lock the door back. I’m not clear about what would happen if I didn’t lock it. Compassion is the only office on that floor of our building.

Somehow, the person with you is never the person with the key. Inevitably, the person with the key must be hunted down. Searched for. Called. Waited on.

Last week they gave me a key to our office door with strict instructions to lock it behind me if I were ever leaving the building when no one else was around. I put the key in my work bag and didn’t think much more of it. This brings me to today.

Barbara had left to run an errand. The only other person in the office was a young man called Tisian (I am guessing at the spelling). Tisian came over to say that he was leaving for a bit, so he would lock the door if I had my key. “It’s okay,” I said, “I am leaving in 5 minutes, so I can just lock it behind me.” Tisian insisted that the door must be locked for those 5 minutes however. From my office I cannot actually see the door. And he didn’t want someone coming in and “doing whatever” without me knowing.

The 5 minutes passed and Chantal arrived to take me to my appointment. I heard her knocking, grabbed my key and went to the door. The key did not work. I started laughing. I have to admit that this was funny to me only because I knew how nearby help was. Otherwise I’m afraid I may not have felt so gracious.

I called upstairs to the East Africa office – not to be confused with the regional office where I work, which deals with East and West Africa – and told the assistant, Alice, that I was locked in. She laughed, apologized and hurried down with a key, and Chantal and I made it to the appointment on time.

It turns out, incidentally, that my key DOES work from the outside. But not from the inside. I don’t know how this is possible. Neither does anyone else, it seems. Regardless, I’ve asked Tisian to please never lock the office when I’m inside anymore, just to be safe.

5) I will close by telling you a little about Chantal’s homes, where the picture at the top was taken. Her significant, beautiful, inspiring homes. In the photos, I’m holding Sarah, who, at two weeks old, is currently the youngest member of the homes. Her mother died in childbirth.

Chantal has named them New Hope Homes. Each one houses 10 children, 4 “mamas” and “aunties” and one grounds/gatekeeper. The children have all been orphaned or abandoned. The women are widows who were in need of a job. Chantal said the idea was to take the command to care for the “widows and orphans” literally.

There are currently two homes running and just in the 5 or 6 days I’ve been here I’ve witnessed massive strides in the progress of the third home, which is set to open the beginning of March. A month out, there are only 3 of the 10 spots not yet spoken for. Future residents include a tiny newborn even younger than Sarah who also lost her mother. The new children will squeeze into the other homes until their new quarters are ready.

I already know that I’ll have dozens of stories about the children at New Hope Homes in the coming months and years. But for now, I just wanted to say that in this first week living in Rwanda I got to go hug the children and hold the babies and it was wonderful.

These little ones need and want all the hugs they can get, and I – maybe especially because I had to say goodbye to my 2.5-year-old and 7-month-old nieces when I moved here – need and want some kids to hug on. So it works out well for all of us.

starting this up again

Hi, friends!  So, in the last post I made on here, I said there would be more to come soon ... and then have written nothing for over a year and a half. Sorry!

Rather than calling this blog "phoebe's page," I guess I should have called it "phoebe's africa blog," because that seems to be the only time I update it.  Yes, for any of you who may not know, I'm back in Africa -- a little more long-term this time.

On January 30, 2008, I officially took up residence in Kigali, Rwanda, where I'll be living and working for the foreseeable future. After running my own business from April 2006 to July 2007, Compassion offered me a new job that was too good to pass up. I'm now overseeing training and support for all field communications and tours/travel staff in Compassion's Africa Region.

I'm currently boarding with some wonderful people until my permanent housing is available sometime in March. In my first 5 days living in Kigali, I'm starting to sort out how to get places, where shops are, etc. And, after 6 months of trying to do my job from the States and simultaneously prepare to move internationally, I'm now getting very excited at the prospect of focusing on my work.

In other news, on January 28, 2008, en route to Kigali, I got engaged! My fiance (wow -- that is the first time I've written that) is a wonderful man called Joe who currently lives in Edinburgh but who will also be relocating to Kigali later this year. We'll finally get to be on the same continent!

I don't have any photos to go with this post, but hope to have some soon. There are also loads of stories I could already tell from my first few days here, but I will save those for later. For now, I just wanted to get something on "paper" to say hello and get myself back in the habit of writing these.

Lots of love to everyone!

finally -- an update

Hello! This is a photo of me kissing Baby Jack, from the perspective of one of the teenage boys, Patrick, who, it seems, has an artistic eye and wouldn't settle for a straightforward snapshot. I thought he did all right.

Jack and I became nearly inseparable anytime I was at the children's house. I adored him (and still do!) and he seemed to like to be with me as well. He is two years old, smiley, funny and just all around irresistible.

As some of you may have heard by now, I am back in the States. The above picture was taken moments before I said goodbye -- which was a very hard thing to do. I know many of you were beginning to wonder if I forgot how to type or something. The last few weeks have been a blur and I apologize that I haven't kept you posted on all that was happening. I arrived home almost 2 weeks ago. I'll explain a bit more about that in a moment, but let me give you those long-promised before and after pics of the school, along with an update.


The lefthand side of the school as you enter. The door leads to the computer room and TV loft. Before...






And after!! The gentleman pictured here is Uncle Titus, who runs the school library. He also tutors the children in mathematics and helps to watch over them during their playtime, as well as performing various and sundry other helpful tasks. In short, he's a keeper!

The posters were a wonderful gift from Sue, the mother of director Nathaniel. The wood cut-outs holding the posters were cut and painted by some of the older boys and girls. The bright orange side table was sanded and painted by some of the older students. They did a terrific job on both projects.


A shot from the front door toward the back of the school (with the stairs to the library on the right).




A tighter shot of the same area. We arranged the screens to provide three distinct areas for learning, all of which can be seen from the teacher's desk (pictured with Titus). The children on the left are also enjoying one of the new "tall" tables that was built. Some chairs are still being built, but soon both tall tables will be at full capacity.

On the right you can also see a newly-painted blackboard -- also compliments of the older students' hard work. They all seemed to really enjoy getting to be a part of the process. Sometimes they were the ones coming to me saying, "Is it time to paint the next coat?"

In the center is an open area, perfect for the preschoolers to play with blocks and other educational toys. Opio and Sam are breaking in the new area quickly.



Two of the older boys, Solomon (left) and Rodgers, enjoy the freshly-painted computer room. Both boys are actually in secondary school already, and were home on semester break. The poster on the right is another gift from Jaaja Sue. It gives tips for test-taking -- perfect since there is also a desk in the room that provides a quiet place for individual students to take tests. The stairs lead up to the TV loft, where the children watch educational videos from time to time.




This last photo shows off the front of the school and the great paint job. On the right the new head teacher, Emmanuel, sits tutoring one of the younger students. The children call him "Master Emma". In the back, Janat flashes her unending smile.







As I mentioned above, I am home again. It was so hard to say goodbye to the children, but I also trust that I'll get to see them again. It has been wonderful to see -- and at least start to catch up with -- friends and family in the last two weeks. It's strange to be here too. The toilet paper in the States is so soft!:) And at least for a couple of days, I felt very spoiled by my hot showers. There are so many wonderful things about Uganda, and so many wonderful things about the US too. But I'm very aware right now of how very different the two places are.

As I often feel when I come home from a trip, I'm trying to figure out what needs to change in my own life, what I don't want to lose hold of that I learned while I was gone. How to be accountable for what I know about our world.

I spent most of my final days in Uganda at the other Aidchild home in Mpigi (see the Easter posting for pics from there) -- and got to enjoy my 31st birthday there with the kids. This post has gotten long so I'll close for now, but I will try to post some pictures and stories from my time there in the next few days.

As always, thanks for being involved and spending a little time with me!

making progess

Babirye enjoys her ice cream -- a rare treat!




Well, for a few days I've been hoping to time to let you know what all we're getting done. But I guess I've been so busy getting things done that I just haven't gotten around to it! I am headed to the other home in Mpigi in just a bit so can't write a lot now, but with the aid of some pictures, hopefully I can update you a little.



























The jaajas were here! Jaaja is Luganda for grandmother. The director Nathaniel's mother, Sue, and grandmother, Marge, came for a few weeks. The children were in heaven and enjoyed lots of time with the jaajas, and of course plenty of treats. Sue took a little time with the housemoms, teaching and encouraging them. Marge, a fabulous quilter, gave a mini-lesson to the older girls in quilting -- and in the important art of button-sewing. Marge will soon be 87 and this is her first visit to Africa! On the last day, they treated the children to ice cream! As Nathaniel said, it's hard to compete with jaajas...




The school is nearing completion. The painting is done, the tall tables are built, we've set it up in a great new layout and we've been hanging some new posters. This picture shows some of the older boys cutting triangles of wood to use as frames for the posters. I promise some before and after pictures of the school very soon!

asante sana -- webale nyo

I can't believe I forgot to mention this sooner, but I got to see Godlisten while I was in Tanzania!! Godlisten was the first child I ever sponsored through Compassion and we've now been together for five years. He was barely 7 when I first met him. He will be 12 next week and grows more handsome, sweet and smiley every day!

Connie, a woman I became friends with when she traveled with me on my last sponsor tour with Compassion -- to Uganda in February -- made these beautiful glass bead necklaces for the older girls at Aidchild. And when I say "made", I don't mean she just strung the beads. I mean she melted and painted the glass. They're beautiful! Here they are on (L-R) Topi, Maria, Ritah and Dora.



While I was in Tanzania, someone asked me how much Swahili I spoke. I told her the few words and phrases I knew and she said, "Oh, you know so much!" When I laughed, she said I knew all the important words. I'm pretty sure that's not true. But my title today is demonstrating some of my multi-lingual skills -- thank you very much in Swahili and Luganda.

I'm back "home" with all the smiling children and I'm very happy to be back! After posting the message on Saturday, I made my way happily to the airport, only to have them tell me that they had oversold the flight and I would have to wait for the next flight, departing in "a couple" of hours. A couple turned out to be five. So I got to know the Kilimanjaro airport very well, but at least did get a nice lunch -- paid for by the airline -- and a beautiful sunset out of the bargain. By the time I made it through my Nairobi connection and then immigration, baggage claim, customs, and caught my shuttle from airport, I arrived in Kampala at about 1 AM.

Still, everything was actually fine, if teaching me a little patience, so I can't complain. I spent Sunday and Monday in Kamplala taking care of some things, and then came back to Aidchild on Tuesday.
A news flash!! While I've been writing this, electricity has come back! We haven't had any for a month now, unless we had the generator on. But about 20 minutes ago, the generator was switched off and the lights continued to stay on. I am already looking forward to how simple it will be to get ready for bed with the use of lights, rather than carrying a candle around with me. I guess it's good that God sends us these times to remember that so many things we take for granted and feel entitled too are actually luxuries that we really can get by without. Still, need them or not, I have to say that those lights tonight are going to be mighty nice.

I'll try to update more in a couple of days, but I want to try to get this posted today so I think I'll close for now. Happy Electricity Day!

hello from Tanzania

I know it's been a few days since I posted anything, so wanted to at least say hello. Sorry there are no pictures this time, since I think that's probably the most interesting part sometimes. I'm posting this from an internet cafe and decided not to try bringing my camera, cable, etc, to try to post some pictures.

As the title mentioned, I'm in Tanzania right now. Just for a few more hours. I've been here since Tuesday morning and fly back to Uganda this afternoon (it's Saturday). I've been here doing some work for Compassion -- photography and story-gathering. Although I'm no longer working there full-time, I was very happy when I had the opportunity to sign a contract to continue doing some communications work for them. Since I was coming so close to Tanzania anyway, they asked if I could come down for a few days and follow up on some of the great work being done among sponsored children who are orphaned or in other vulnerable situations, as well as those who are receiving care through Compassion's HIV/AIDS program.

It's been a very inspiring week. As I always do when I travel to Compassion projects, I've met some beautiful, amazing children -- and their families. And the Tanzania staff are wonderful as well. Tanzania was the first country I ever visited in Africa and the first place I ever traveled with Compassion. So I've known some of the staff here for about 5 years. They were very nice and told me I am a local now.

One of the women took me to a handcraft market yesterday so I could buy a couple of things. After we'd been there a little while she asked me how I learned to bargain so well? She said she thought I had a better idea of what price some of those things were worth than she did. I don't know that that was actually true, but it did make me feel good. As anyone knows who has seen my house, I have spent a good bit of time buying artwork and handcrafts in markets all over the world and do enjoy the experience.

For the next few days I will be doing similar work for Compassion Uganda before heading back to Aidchild. When I said goodbye to the children there last Monday they wanted to know exactly when I'd be coming back. It was strange for me that Monday night because it was the first time in nearly 4 straight weeks where I didn't go in to say goodnight after they were all in bed. I'll be happy to see them again on Tuesday.

The painting of the school there was nearing completion when I left, and the taller tables had been built so I'm looking forward to seeing everything finished when I get back.

Well, I need to go finish packing up my things so I can check out of the hotel, so I think I'll close here. But I just wanted to catch everyone up on what I've been up to this week. I will try to get some more pictures posted when I get back to Aidchild. Thanks to everyone who has been staying in touch! It's so nice to have those connections to home.

stories of Uganda

How are theses for some amazing smiles? Marvin (left) and Sam look like this much of the time.

Mami Nakato sits with Suzan Gayle on the porch while they're waiting on the big kids to come for snack time. "Nakato" for women, like "Kato" for men, means she is a twin. This house mom and I have gotten know each other much better during my visit this time.

As I write this, I have completed three full weeks in Uganda. In some ways, I feel as though I’ve been here three months, rather than three weeks. I’m in my routine of getting ready for bed by candlelight and tucking my mosquito net in before climbing into bed and I start to wonder, are there really places where people don’t need a mosquito net? On mornings that I don’t wake to the sound of rain on the corrugated metal roof, I wonder, where is the rain today? And when the room gets dim while I’m getting ready for the day, I think, oh, there it is. I also know that on most days that it starts raining like that at 7 AM rather than 3 AM, it means it will likely be raining until lunchtime (and this morning is one of those days).

I’ve gotten quite good at fixing a breakfast of coffee, eggs and toast all with the use of a gas burner, because the generator is not yet on at breakfast time. And I love sitting at my little table by the window while I eat, watching the children run by in the rain on their way down to the school -- and waiting for the ones who always turn to look and see if I’m sitting at the window so they can wave. And it was sitting at this window on Sunday morning that I suddenly saw a giant banana leaf walking by, with six little legs. While I was watching, the leaf suddenly lifted just enough for me to catch a glimpse of Bula, Sam and Simon Peter, all with rather serious expressions on their faces as Bula called back some instructions or other to the other two. Alas, they were quickly on their way again before I could grab my camera. But really, how many umbrellas at home can cover three heads so easily?

At tuck-in time, I have my routine with some of the children as well. First to the girls’ room, where when I ask Maria, “Can I kiss you goodnight?” she always giggles like she’s embarrassed, but then always says yes. Two-year-old Babirye, who, if she’s awake when I kiss her, always says, “Nakato” -- reminding me to kiss her twin sister as well. Then Janat who must pull me back to give me “one” extra kiss at least three times. On to the main room, where when I say “Have a good night,” Rogers always responds with a very formal “likewise,” and Ezra always pretends to hide from me and Njuba lies far over by the wall so I have to actually sit down and duck my head under the bunk so I can get to him but then he always grabs both my hands in his while I say goodnight, and Simon Peter who sits with his lips puckered waiting to kiss me at least three beds before I get to his.

Then into the rooms where the bigger boys stay, where Kawuma always acts like he’s not going to say goodnight and even goes so far as to hide in the bathroom sometimes, but who always does say goodnight in the end, and where Nyanzi always answers every question I ask -- regardless of who it was directed to -- in a big booming voice (he is proud of the fact that his voice has changed), and where Mbabazi pretends to be asleep but always has a giant smile on his face so I know he’s awake. And where Kato #1 always takes my hand in both his and studies it so closely while we say goodnight and sometimes says, “Mami Phoebe, you look very smart today” (Kato keeps his clothes so nice and stays so clean -- how we wish it would rub off on the other boys!), and where his brother, Wasswa #1, suddenly one night called out, “Kwagara nyo, that means I love you so much,” and then asked me to say it and every night since he says it to me and I say it back.

I have rambled on a lot this time, but I will leave you with one last story. On Monday, we had one of those 7-hour rains and everyone was trapped inside for so much of the day. Finally, around 3:00, the rain stopped, and “white ants” emerged. From what I can tell, they aren’t ants, nor are they white. They are, however, little ant-looking bugs with white wings, which I suppose is where the name comes from. They come out in droves after a big rain, and are evidently a big treat. You can eat them raw (not to say still living), wings and all, or you can wait for them to be cooked. I did summon up the courage to try one cooked. It wasn’t so bad, really, as long as I just didn’t think about the fact that I was eating a bug. I’ve been offered bugs of various descriptions in many of the places I’ve visited, but had avoided it till now. But the kids were so excited by this special treat that I couldn’t really say no this time! I managed to get a few pictures of the event, so you can see it for yourself.





There is more than one way to collect white ants, I learned. The small children like to try to bat them out of the air while they fly. While not very effective, it is very fun to watch. Maria is more practical and waits till they've come back down to earth. She was the one who offered me some of hers later, once they were cooked.








Richard demonstrates eating them "fresh".





White ants, up close and personal.

a lot of great things going on

The beautiful little Suzan Gayle


Hello again! I know it’s been a few days since I posted anything. The good news is that it’s because there have been so many good things going on. I’ll try to catch you up to date.

We have a new head teacher for the school! As of yesterday, a wonderful man named Emmanuel officially accepted the position. He will spend the next few days moving and will start to work next Tuesday. “Head teacher” actually means school principal/administrator here. He will also be helping to develop individual studies and focuses for the children, and overseeing their work, so he will be their teacher as well. He will likely be hiring some tutors to further help the children in the near future as well.

Because the children have such varying educational backgrounds, as they get closer to high school we are focusing more on meeting their individual needs and less on a traditional classroom setting. Emmanuel is a very creative person and we are excited by the possibilities that this non-traditional environment will offer to all these beautiful children.

We are also using this opportunity to do a little remodeling and face-lifting to the school. Here are some of the projects we’re working on:

• Repainting all the walls
• Recovering the screens that serve as moveable walls during the school day
• Building 2 more classroom tables and chairs for them (a footnote on this one: while there are still plenty of young and small children, it’s one of the really great blessings to me that a good number of the children have grown up so much since they originally came that their knees are now higher than the tables they used to sit at and so it’s time for “regular height” tables)
• Building “cubbies” so that each student has a place to store his or her work and personal belongings

Hopefully in another week or so I’ll have pictures for you of the children with their new teacher, as well as the progress on the school!

In the meantime, here are just a few more great moments that I haven’t yet had a chance to post. Enjoy! (More are coming very soon, I promise.)
These flags are a tribute and memorial to the children who have died at Aidchild. There are nine total. They are replaced from time to time to keep them bright and beautiful. The children assist in changing them out. Pictured here are Kato #2, who shimmied up the pole to retrieve a broken line, along with Rose (left) and Rogers.

A "double-wide"swing was recently installed to accomodate the posteriors of us adults, who don't fit so easily onto the smaller swings. The children were delighted, and Mariam (left) and Diana decided it was just perfect for them!

a week of smiles

Did you know that in Uganda, the Easter holiday includes a 4 day weekend? In addition to Good Friday, the Monday after Easter is also a holiday from work and school. It's an excellent idea, I've decided. And if that isn't enough, Aidchild had their celebrating extend even a little longer -- with parties on Tuesday (at Mpigi) and Wednesday (at Masaka)!

We're still having time to get work done too though, even with all this fun, and have been conducting interviews for the new head of Aidchild Academy. With a title of Lead Academic Facilitator, this role will serve as the head of the school from both an administrative and education standpoint. We're very excited with how this is going and I hope to be able to announce who that new individual will be very soon.

At Mpigi, Okello flashes his great smile while he waits for his egg to dye.

One of the beautiful little girls at Mpigi definitely held her own against the "big kids" during the egg hunt! (She is new since the last time I had visited and I'm afraid I forgot her name.)
















At Masaka, all the toddlers took this egg-dying thing very seriously. Here they are on their way down to get started. Mbabazi kindly served as their host and guide.












Even after instructions were given and the eggs had been dropped in the cups, Jack still wasn't totally sure what he thought of this idea...


















The bigger kids took the the process with a little less skepticism and dyed eggs with enthusiasm.







I seem to have reached my limit for how many pictures I can post on today's page, but after kids hunted the eggs, they rehid them so the adults could hunt them. They got great pleasure from then showing the adults where they were hidden.

After all the dying and hunting at both parties, we enjoyed french fries (or chips as they call them here), sodas -- and boiled eggs!! Oh yes, and some chocolate and jelly beans that I managed to get from the States without it melting (or me eating it). All in all, the parties were a huge success and the kids ended both parties by thanking us for the party. They're pretty great!

Happy Easter!

The two beautiful faces above are Brian and Dorah.














This is a familiar sight – the kids hamming it up for the camera. Pictured here are (L-R): Simon Peter, Ezra, Kato #2, Opio and Sam. (For future reference, between the 2 homes, there are 3 sets of boy twins named Kato and Wasswa – I’m calling them 1, 2, 3 according to age order.)





















And this one of me and my young friends is also a pretty typical scene. Anytime Elizabeth or I sit down for more than a couple of minutes, we soon have kids of various sizes crawling on and around us. We don’t mind!

As I’m writing this on Sunday afternoon, most of you are probably just starting to get up and think about getting ready for Easter Sunday. But here, the children have long been changed out of their church clothes and we have had Sunday dinner and are enjoying a rather lazy Sunday afternoon.

We had a special meal that included chicken – a rare treat for the children – to celebrate the day, but we will continue our festivities on Tuesday and Wednesday, with a special party at each home. This way there is plenty of time for coloring and hunting Easter eggs, good food and lots of fun at both places, and we'll get in on both parties.

In other news, it has been raining! I know I shouldn’t be surprised since it IS the rainy season... It usually just rains for 3 or 4 hours, but while it’s raining, it really pours and finds every window, crack or any other little place where water might come in.

I don’t mind the rain, actually. It started late this year so everyone was relieved when it finally came. Uganda isn’t a place that usually gets dry and crispy, but they were more that way than usual this year. The reason I think I’ve been noticing the rain so much though, is that, while I managed to pack most of what I needed, I’ve been amused by the one small thing I forgot. My rain jacket.

In about 20 trips during the last 5 years, I remembered it on every trip. And yet, here I am in Uganda during the rainy season, and my jacket sits in its handy pouch on the shelf in my coat closet in Colorado.It’s nothing a trip to Kampala won’t solve, but it is funny! In the meantime, I’ve found one more great use for the plastic grocery sacks I always have on trips – a rain cap!

It's also a bit chilly in the mornings and when it rains at this time of year. So I spend quite a lot more time that you might imagine in a sweater. I don’t mind though. If it weren’t quite so humid, the hot days and cool evenings could be Colorado. Plus, this way we get to enjoy a fire every evening while we have dinner and it’s very cozy.

Let me fill you in on a few other things that have been happening.

Driving lessons! As an incentive for good behavior, some of the older children have recently gotten to start learning to drive. The driveway here sort of does a big loop that makes the perfect practice route. There are about 7 or 8 of them so far who have had the opportunity to try, and they’re all doing quite well – and it’s a 5-speed truck, so I think they’re doing pretty well just to be able to reach the clutch. Pictured victorious here are Kato #1 and Topista. In the photo with Kato is Nathaniel Dunigan, director and founder of Aidchild, and now, driving instructor as well!

Photography lessons! One of the boys, Kato #2, has been completely intrigued by my camera ever since I got here. Yesterday afternoon, I asked him if he’d like to learn how to take a picture. He was very excited and between his limited English and my drawing pictures occasionally to help explain, I think he may now be on his way to a love for photography.

Kato holding the camera soon attracted a lot of attention and quite a few of the older boys started asking to take pictures as well. This was fun because they tend not to hang around as much as the little ones. So this started about an hour of taking turns posing for and shooting pictures. The little ones joined in and didn’t even ask to use the camera. They seemed to realize maybe it was just for “big kids”.

The first picture above, I am afraid I don’t remember who took it. The second one was by Mbabazi. He seems to have a near perfect eye for framing a picture, and got the hang of pushing gently to focus and then snapping the picture more quickly than anyone else. What I also love about these is that the children were just arranging themselves. We would tell them “scoot back”or “sit down lower”, but otherwise they got to be in charge of the scene. I thought they did a pretty good job!