tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30917986729679248172024-02-26T20:34:24.077+03:00Running the race....Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.comBlogger1045125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-76428180003232631022019-12-11T09:00:00.000+03:002019-12-13T21:22:55.160+03:00Trying to come back from Uganda<br />
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So this is not the
post that I had expected to write when I first sat here after getting back from
this visit to Uganda. But this is the post that needs to be written first.
Mostly because someday (10 years from now? Maybe longer.) I hope to look back
and be able to laugh at this trip. But that day is not now.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmx-pJTmIWV8j-fB3GdCYEWA_7oU3xCdha_dtGqylBajsiCoS2rinqsLlBOA62kZVWt8A6KkTuB-vHt3TlZyoJNepvB71nZG90oXhck2KEuC3wZ_qj7m7-6_b3ZZy8qgdU7ngKQJHUYas/s1600/20191202_090048+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmx-pJTmIWV8j-fB3GdCYEWA_7oU3xCdha_dtGqylBajsiCoS2rinqsLlBOA62kZVWt8A6KkTuB-vHt3TlZyoJNepvB71nZG90oXhck2KEuC3wZ_qj7m7-6_b3ZZy8qgdU7ngKQJHUYas/s320/20191202_090048+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting in the truck with the kids</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Monday morning in
Gulu. I'm up a 5am because I want to get a quick run in, finish packing, clean
up the guest house and still have a bit of time with my niece and nephew before
we need to head to the tiny Gulu airstrip at 8am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At least I got plenty of
extra time sitting in the car with them playing cards while we waited for the
MAF plane that was nearly two hours late. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally the 8 seater prop plane
landed in Gulu, unloaded a few people, loaded me and my regulation 25 pound bag
and we're off. But this is a shuttle plane. It has two other stops futher north
before we can head to upcountry to where I'll catch my international flights
home later in the evening. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTNlxw1hyBmPeqlKGzveAo1weSQcc5o8v15nk9ZQdZteVt3HiJpuWgzuB7H8tl2ItfsZz1xakg86WwqLGYcRW18FdgJPvZIqB2D5rgIQswa9oaGxm_DYxjf488aqgtLj-onyfyhkI-fk/s1600/20191202_105059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTNlxw1hyBmPeqlKGzveAo1weSQcc5o8v15nk9ZQdZteVt3HiJpuWgzuB7H8tl2ItfsZz1xakg86WwqLGYcRW18FdgJPvZIqB2D5rgIQswa9oaGxm_DYxjf488aqgtLj-onyfyhkI-fk/s320/20191202_105059.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to show the mud and potholes</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The first tiny dirt runway that we need
to drop an aid worker off at looks very muddy and full of ruts and mud puddles
from the air. We buzz it again at a lower elevation and it doesn't look any
better. But on the third pass the pilot goes for it and somehow managed to keep
us upright and not slide off the end into the brush. Thought that landing was
not for the faint of heart or weak of faith getting back off the ground proved
easier. Until we got to our third stop. Picking up three physicians from the
very remote Kalongo hospital in Acholi. Getting onto the ground there was the
easy part. As we buzzed the run way to clear the cattle off, hundreds (not
exaggerating) of children ran to the airstrip to watch this event that only
happens a few times a year. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeMu_mMSHimPmvQNfGnhyphenhyphensKJ0ix_3o41_4YoDObzceIGG4RmPez2F-qVY2LtRF8Zunxab8jnTWjsYICy5Ai_oYXhjxHU9W8fJiyG_vXOfU5VNFcXTFJmkVFH-cnuzGWEPiRUHAkomdT4/s1600/20191202_110349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeMu_mMSHimPmvQNfGnhyphenhyphensKJ0ix_3o41_4YoDObzceIGG4RmPez2F-qVY2LtRF8Zunxab8jnTWjsYICy5Ai_oYXhjxHU9W8fJiyG_vXOfU5VNFcXTFJmkVFH-cnuzGWEPiRUHAkomdT4/s320/20191202_110349.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too many hours in this tiny tin can</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As we prepared for take-off the pilot chased the
kids away from the plane and began to taxi. But the kids quickly crowded
back onto the airfield to watch what was going to happen. So he slowed back
down, rolled to the far end and tried coming back at it from the other way. But
there were children crowding onto to the airstrip from one end to the other,
all trying to see what was going on. He didn't have a clear runway. So
the plane was shut down, and he got out and tried chasing them all away
again. But by now they thought it was a </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">hilarious</span><span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> game and just keep crowding closer and closer and it
was obvious that it just wasn't going to fly. Literally or figuratively. One of
the passengers called up to the hospital and they send down and ambulance and
several men with whips who finally "convinced" the children to stay
back while the plane took off. But the whole mess took an hour or more. Finally
on our way to Kampala across practically the whole length of the country north
to south.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even though my plane
was hours late landing in Kampla the driver was ready and waiting for me. He
drove me the two hours (stupid Kampla traffic!) to Entebbe. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This isn't even when all the actual adventure started. The car
hire dropped me at a restaurant to fill the little remaining time before I
needed to head to the airport (btw uganda friends, Faze 3 has a free shuttle).
At 9:30 pm I arrived to the KLM gate to check in. Cleared immigration, then
security. At 10:30 the plane arrived at the gate. At 1130 they announced
a delay but at midnight we began boarding. Unfortunately, what felt like </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">moments</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> after everyone was
on, we had to collect our stuff and get back off. It was explained that
when the plane put down in Kigali the landing gear broke. It got worse when
they landed in Entebbe and now the maintenance staff was unable to repair
sufficiently to land in Amsterdam. They had a few other things they wanted to
try but we had to disembark before they could try further repairs. Back to the
waiting room. At 2am the announcement came over that the plane would not be
fixed tonight.
</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI093D8cbhhmOUl1VxizZbd26j8T25CZfRrJEYBCI2l-Bt40CXFhXsPSDDc8VMY1cgKUCC7ZjA63c6XCcbDEhxaGkkGAI8uuGHuvZV3fCUvPcTFMaT0_MrCCKTipYCTtR73q7Vkd_Y3mo/s1600/20191203_014817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI093D8cbhhmOUl1VxizZbd26j8T25CZfRrJEYBCI2l-Bt40CXFhXsPSDDc8VMY1cgKUCC7ZjA63c6XCcbDEhxaGkkGAI8uuGHuvZV3fCUvPcTFMaT0_MrCCKTipYCTtR73q7Vkd_Y3mo/s320/20191203_014817.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luggage loaded into bus windows</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOAsmyJv2FtPlLv-k-PXh_ISYyeKPfaKV7JYdczcdXRn2Num9NcquPX2rcgqglzltImkRvzk1FRFvbShBrutY1xAwoxsjh2bmwCc_ApksFFYAce6dezMcG9aKPHR7UC_vIlpM0GWB7H0/s1600/IMG-20191203-WA0004.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOAsmyJv2FtPlLv-k-PXh_ISYyeKPfaKV7JYdczcdXRn2Num9NcquPX2rcgqglzltImkRvzk1FRFvbShBrutY1xAwoxsjh2bmwCc_ApksFFYAce6dezMcG9aKPHR7UC_vIlpM0GWB7H0/s320/IMG-20191203-WA0004.jpeg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Passport check lines, AGAIN.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We would be assisted to hotels to wait. But we had to go back
through immigration and have our passports unstamped. Then go to baggage
claim and wait for our stuff to come back off the carousel. Then we were herded
out to three waiting buses that were obviously not large enough for all of us
and all of our luggage. I believe it was past 3am before I got to a hotel where
there was one </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">receptionist</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> trying
to check all of us in. While in line we were all discussing if we thought we
would need to return to the airport in the morning? Would there be a
return shuttle? How would we </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">receive</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> communication from KLM? At this point we had heard
nothing more and weren't sure what to think. I finally got a room, had a quick
shower and set my alarm for 7am. Upon getting up I found signs in the
lobby and confirmed with others from the flight that we were expected back at
the airport at 8pm and were planning to depart right after the regularly
scheduled KLM midnight flight. So we now had 13 hours of waiting…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It felt strange to be stranded in Entebbe all by myself but I had
not had hardly any down time the whole trip to it was a nice opportunity to
have some quiet time to pray and journal and just sit quietly. It was actually
very cool and rainy all that day. I was feeling pretty exhausted but blamed it
on our terrible night and the very full previous day.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGotsUh3BNxSx3PdWcc8yEE_dDKj-sa45qb4Le0Nn7vfdV8XGueIgb7ypl-Q15QL6uPNBZNbJaHX5vuS2rQXxHX0zrLUDQMgAoFmqFDU1FmKyzz_3MvarC5hpnSKUWuWAlyT_sWymalE/s1600/20191203_090539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGotsUh3BNxSx3PdWcc8yEE_dDKj-sa45qb4Le0Nn7vfdV8XGueIgb7ypl-Q15QL6uPNBZNbJaHX5vuS2rQXxHX0zrLUDQMgAoFmqFDU1FmKyzz_3MvarC5hpnSKUWuWAlyT_sWymalE/s320/20191203_090539.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Around 7pm most of the passengers started regathering in the
lobby to head back to the airport. We knew the shuttles would take a while and
our directions said check-in at 8pm. Well, at 8pm at the airport it quickly
became obvious that the airport staff had no idea what to do with us. Entebbe
airport is international but still tiny. Their regular flights were still going
out and we were told to “queue up!” over and over again but the room was
packed, 100+ degrees and there was really no where for us to go. We all stood
around until at least 10:30 pm when they finally started checking us in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, I was feeling nauseated and
dizzy but thought it had to do with standing for hours without anything to
drink or eat. Finally checking in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back
through passport control. Back through security. As soon as the other midnight
KLM flight left they directed us back into that waiting room that we had spent
most of the previous night in. It has a bathroom and plastic chairs but nothing
else. Then we sat. And sat. At around 1am people started demanding an update.
We were told "technical difficulties". 2am an airport staffer came
out and explained that the part they thought they needed came on the 10pm
incoming arrival from Amsterdam and had been installed but wasn’t ready to go
yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also about this time that it
became rather obvious to me that I had malaria. I’ve been around this block
before and when the joint aches, nausea, and stabbing head pain all merged at
the same time all I could do was pray. I was laying on the ground trying to not
vomit on myself or anyone around me. The bathroom is still a third world
bathroom and not somewhere I wanted to hang out. At 3 am still no sign of
boarding. And no more info was forthcoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2_nD-Nqx1dMiX9IgACo9hZD_z48gwKV2sEH9g39yjLP2XTl_FklOxgx5b8khOBjFnezYRlfObULhJxlFjLJQ2tIsqNzzeMYN5TeIqK7k3wafOQz7XKIyb4kPv6yrs0N0gXybVDsSu1g/s1600/IMG-20191204-WA0002.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2_nD-Nqx1dMiX9IgACo9hZD_z48gwKV2sEH9g39yjLP2XTl_FklOxgx5b8khOBjFnezYRlfObULhJxlFjLJQ2tIsqNzzeMYN5TeIqK7k3wafOQz7XKIyb4kPv6yrs0N0gXybVDsSu1g/s320/IMG-20191204-WA0002.jpeg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mob forming</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">People were getting beyond restless and angry. This is a huge
international flight. We were not allowed to leave this waiting area. We had
all been at the airport since 8pm today and also 12 hours the previous night. Around
4am an actual mob started to form. I was WhatsApping with my brother Nick at
the time when people started yelling, grabbing the security guards that were
blocking the door, and demanding water, information, to be allowed to leave. Within
minutes military police started crowding into the room with their large rifles
and military gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They started yelling
to us that this flight was completely canceled, we had to leave. To find
different ways home. There are probably 10 flights a day that leave this
airport, only about 5 that go to places that would have connecting flights
(Like the flight to Juba or Mogadishu are useless to us).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is 700+ people, learning at 4am that
they need to get a flight to Nairobi or Addis Ababa or Cairo in order to get
another flight into the developed world. There are not words to describe the
feeling in the room at that moment. The military police presence was actually
necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Personally, at this point I was barely hanging on. My fever was
higher that it had ever been. I couldn’t think. We were being directed back through
immigration, security and baggage one more time. Back out to the parking lot
for buses. One might think that as this is the second time this has needed to
happen in two days that it might even be smoother the second time around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would be wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time it was nearly 6am. The busses that
were free the day before at 3am now had other work to do. We had seen no KLM
representatives since they checked us in a 11pm the night before so they were
not making arrangements. The upside was the hotels were ready to have us back.
They had almost finished cleaning all our rooms when they began to check us
back into them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At this point I had a major dilemma. I knew I needed a malaria
test and treatment. I needed hydration and fever control. I also had not slept
more than three uninterrupted hours since Sunday night and it was now 7am Tuesday
morning. I set an alarm to wake up in a few hours to get a boda ride out to a
pharmacy and get malaria test and treatment. For better or worse it was good
that I didn’t sleep too many hours Tuesday morning because when I work up at 10
I had a message from KLM that I could be on the early afternoon flight to Johannesburg
if I wanted it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to connect
with their service representative to arrange the additional connections from South Africa,
back to the US, Atlanta, then on to Detroit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That seemed like it was all going to work. Now
to deal with this fever, headache and incessant nausea. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFOgDo9TzRhT8eydtVJRaFztBpHZPOoQg0v8HeCEM9lH_L_1rvzsckWPOzrHhct-c0WtYSChIxVweTVQ6cMI9sxXmufO6zTcQIWHJoGgmcGP8rdRKGCbTKbc-Yq0YYi5J63E3uIHHDmo/s1600/20191204_120633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFOgDo9TzRhT8eydtVJRaFztBpHZPOoQg0v8HeCEM9lH_L_1rvzsckWPOzrHhct-c0WtYSChIxVweTVQ6cMI9sxXmufO6zTcQIWHJoGgmcGP8rdRKGCbTKbc-Yq0YYi5J63E3uIHHDmo/s200/20191204_120633.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boda to pharmacy</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I dragged my achy,
feverish body out to the road and onto a motorcycle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least the pharmacy was near. Got the malaria
testing kits, which are supposed to take 20 minutes to read and I had a
positive within 5 and got a course of treatment. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwEhqpEPhBrZMVx80nAXI9owyiZ8TcFnM5_jmNauiV6tasG4c_WhBKt6CvN_faWjKKLxp7yFgFR8auGSf-FgxvfqTsqOnmxw_DLWA2jRuytA-mPMmjbjP5DwjNzonCyjMR2bkcvWv_c8/s1600/20191204_113412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwEhqpEPhBrZMVx80nAXI9owyiZ8TcFnM5_jmNauiV6tasG4c_WhBKt6CvN_faWjKKLxp7yFgFR8auGSf-FgxvfqTsqOnmxw_DLWA2jRuytA-mPMmjbjP5DwjNzonCyjMR2bkcvWv_c8/s320/20191204_113412.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Positive for malaria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">I rushed back to the hotel,
tried to eat something with my first does of Artequin and promptly threw up.</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">I wasn’t even really keeping down fluids
which meant I was now 12 hours since last being appropriately hydrated. But it
was noon so I had to check out of the hotel and head back to the airport.
Getting more than a little sick of that place. </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">Back through security for what felt like the
100</span><sup style="color: #1d2228;">th</sup><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> time.</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">The SA flight </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">agents were confused when they pulled up my flight
information but I managed to explain the whole situation to them. Then the
immigration officer wanted to know why my passport had been stamped and cancelled
so many times. He held me for nearly 20 minutes while he waited for his
superior.</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">They had a conversation in Lugandan
which I obviously didn’t follow but was finally allowed through.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDG19WuVdp0scsV8PPRU5_ICyBi4JzNiYcIq83MVwNJPzT0_4EPHRa50dEYONET-46AAsBj0dTu9b-0UJ8PLoX5XrdWnJKG6cwiicDcAYjkYMTvskFlGEjixHnFincvylt2z_-j9sDwc/s1600/IMG-20191204-WA0009.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDG19WuVdp0scsV8PPRU5_ICyBi4JzNiYcIq83MVwNJPzT0_4EPHRa50dEYONET-46AAsBj0dTu9b-0UJ8PLoX5XrdWnJKG6cwiicDcAYjkYMTvskFlGEjixHnFincvylt2z_-j9sDwc/s320/IMG-20191204-WA0009.jpeg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hit a personal rather low point while waiting for the gate which
was not yet boarding my flight. I hurt so badly that I had to lay back down on
the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My chills had reached the
point that my teeth were chattering and I couldn’t stop shivering. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had friends in Uganda encouraging me to stay
and get further treatment. It was not necessarily bad advice but none of them were
all that near to Entebbe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which meant if I stayed that I had to cancel
all the flight arrangements I’d made, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>figure
out how to get my checked bag back, have ANOTHER conversation with passport control,
find a driver to get me to a guest house but by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>now I was out of shillings which meant I also needed an ATM. And all because
of my Ugandan sim card situation I could only use my phone when there was wifi
which is surprisingly limited in most places in Uganda. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a bad suggestion, but it just seemed
impossible to manage by myself. I needed the path of least resistance and as I
was on the floor in front of the gate to board the SA flight that was it.
Amazingly that flight was announced on time. We took off and I immediately fell
asleep. I don’t remember hardly any of that 8 hour flight and I woke up as we
landed feeling slightly better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But realized
just how dehydrated I was becoming as I tried to stand and between the dizziness
and overwhelming fatigue thought I was going to faceplant while coming down the
stairs to go into the terminal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyS6yxN8F0GduYxsXFEWzqr0OVmnh2WYvkLqqZYs_64JcgbIkT58xu4CwkohARrymNuXINct3lrtsqEt9fiie8winerKzp3FGkuBciKtV4XIboPetvdF6rPuszmtdIcibrMWDrOnqK4Yg/s1600/SA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="660" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyS6yxN8F0GduYxsXFEWzqr0OVmnh2WYvkLqqZYs_64JcgbIkT58xu4CwkohARrymNuXINct3lrtsqEt9fiie8winerKzp3FGkuBciKtV4XIboPetvdF6rPuszmtdIcibrMWDrOnqK4Yg/s200/SA.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I did manage to navigate that airport, though it is cloudy in my
mind. I managed security again and somehow found my next gate. I got some juice
and tried but was completely unsuccessful at keeping it down. At least the toilets
in Joburg are nicer than in Entebbe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I know this story is already too long but we are getting near
the end. Mostly because it is at this point I had a pretty steady delirium going
on.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I know at some point I discovered
that this flight I was about to board was 16+ hours long and I cried real tears
which was a waste of precious fluids but I just didn’t feel like I could do it.
But I boarded the plane. Then threw up practically minutes after sitting down.
The up side of that is the flight attendants took on look at me, had a conversation
in Afrikaans, then asked me if I would move closer to the bathrooms. At least
this got me an aisle seat. </span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They did
bring me lots of water and sprite, little of which I kept down and plenty of
warm blankets. I did manage at some point in this flight to get down the second
dose of Artequin.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And mostly slept.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I honestly don’t remember Atlanta at all. I
had to have been there and found my gate to Detroit. I even had to clear
customs, collect my checked bag and recheck it because it is here now, but I don’t
remember it. </span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then a few more hours on a
plane. Finally 11 am on Thursday morning I arrived in Detroit and was picked up
by my parents. A few hours drive back to Grand Rapids with me prone in the back
of the van. After leaving from “home” in Gulu 8am Monday morning and including factoring
in 8 time zones that is 52 solid hours of travel. </span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I tried to </span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: inherit , serif;">re-hydrate</span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Friday and took my last
dose of Artequin but still was too sick.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tried to get my PCP to write a prescription but sadly ended up in ER for
a few liters of fluid and some meds anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So that’s it. I’m home now. Headed back to work today….. someday
I’ll process all the rest of the trip but I think I’m still just recovering
from this portion first. </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-59601129588208043232019-01-22T06:57:00.000+03:002019-01-23T21:07:33.186+03:00Sabbath Rest<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Oct 20, 2017)</span><br />
At the Obule youth conference I spent some time teaching about Sabbath rest. I feel like I need to write about it again because it seems like a big lesson God is trying to teach me. I mostly write here to process and occasionally I post it for you to read. I hope this one helps you and proved easier for you swallow, and more importantly do more than just change your thinking, than it was for me.<br />
<br />
Sabbath isn't a formula. It isn't a list of does/ don'ts. It is a relationship. It is the creation of a sanctuary in time to be with God. It is the pushing back the noise of the world in order to better hear God.<br />
It is a gift. The gift of rest to restless people. If we look at the traditional Jewish sabbath.....<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDP4z4JcJUSi1tTg733eQJdhfkRWvI4hvQ_8RpbFCK7rfYMuU-wdVIpJvGRgeE3DR2DFha9Rn8RPCBS6AjaHrpTTbRXCJZQ8SVsg4oOtHVC5pyQGH949Vk7VRlbV8hl8SxPvVWP7YWJM/s1600/20170906_120808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDP4z4JcJUSi1tTg733eQJdhfkRWvI4hvQ_8RpbFCK7rfYMuU-wdVIpJvGRgeE3DR2DFha9Rn8RPCBS6AjaHrpTTbRXCJZQ8SVsg4oOtHVC5pyQGH949Vk7VRlbV8hl8SxPvVWP7YWJM/s320/20170906_120808.jpg" width="320" /></a>Sabbath, is a time to remember and observe and celebrate and anticipate. Remembering God's deliverance. Celebrating Jesus' work on the cross. Anticipating someday having full Sabbath rest in heaven. Looking at these things that God alone can do. But in addition to those<u> it reminds us of who we are in perspective to God</u>. God did rest. He did not have to. But we do. So God led the way. He stopped, rested and invited us to do the same. <i>Sabbath rest is imitating God's own rest in order that we might become more like God while yet seeing that we are not God. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
At the conference I asked the kids to try to describe to me the difference between noise and music. Considering kids in Soroti see and do <a href="https://www.facebook.com/steve.tiesenga/videos/10215328006900127/">this </a>on a regular basis, they understand, possibly better than I, the key rhythm plays. Rhythm is knowing when to be on, and when to be off. When to make noise and when to be still. God gave us an innate desire for rhythm. Both in music and the rest of life. six day on, one off. Six on, one off. Or rather, one off, six on. One off, six on.<br />
<i><br /></i>
But is begins to feel like a burden laid on us. We begin to see it as a day stolen from us rather than a gift we are blessed with!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop because we are finished. We do not stop because we have completed our phone calls, finished our project, gotten through this stack of messages or sent this report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it is time to stop....Sabbath liberates us from the need to be finished. Sabbath says: "Stop now." - Wayne Muller</blockquote>
Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-24308609637040752402018-02-08T01:00:00.000+03:002018-02-08T01:57:24.515+03:00Jackfruit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AWMUX2_aFLbzM37gbJz1ZiX91WNg0GyvLjnOwMEgAoKYACScne-czSqE9CRYEQCfnigbhqrTpu2HCrL_gapU9z1evWufNvR7cy1IEpYev05GI4KFLFXua0pWwDM9cGDZdn8lCZxGH8Q/s1600/jackfruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AWMUX2_aFLbzM37gbJz1ZiX91WNg0GyvLjnOwMEgAoKYACScne-czSqE9CRYEQCfnigbhqrTpu2HCrL_gapU9z1evWufNvR7cy1IEpYev05GI4KFLFXua0pWwDM9cGDZdn8lCZxGH8Q/s320/jackfruit.jpg" width="177" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-ZLA4W82lAOGmAsB3J4_QkZae44AKxBKSAUmA4IJ-_dUgWU3bIC7LL9yqJtmqtjJmk1ssfFttGSL7q9OT6ISPjoVE9DCJKaJF6d7SdEsqEWpsXq-T2pSxcqz0VOySelN11gyydbnWl0/s1600/20171218_083719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-ZLA4W82lAOGmAsB3J4_QkZae44AKxBKSAUmA4IJ-_dUgWU3bIC7LL9yqJtmqtjJmk1ssfFttGSL7q9OT6ISPjoVE9DCJKaJF6d7SdEsqEWpsXq-T2pSxcqz0VOySelN11gyydbnWl0/s320/20171218_083719.jpg" width="320" /></a>For my birthday I was given a jackfruit. It was a 20 pound fruit that took us literally hours to clean and prepare. Jackfruit is currently popular in the US as a "super food", though Ugandans just see it as a cheap staple. Usually it is just eaten raw but I'd wanted to try some other things with it We had so much that made four different recipes. The pie was my favorite. We also marinated and stirfried it and BBQ even more. We were all a bit sick of it and I'm pretty sure there was still some left even after three meals and giving it away to 20+ people. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxIStIa3TEbpxt7Bo-MrZxoePIxskNFFxVGhxJfDQFrRaYzQJGbDPFV1fvpM8CiQymSsGJyodfC4ejxnjiUh_Tt4oSzBEIQIeIfR5A3IZrsOYh6JPGQAdZwEo_WENvT6F27Wf5vrzALg/s1600/20171218_103314+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxIStIa3TEbpxt7Bo-MrZxoePIxskNFFxVGhxJfDQFrRaYzQJGbDPFV1fvpM8CiQymSsGJyodfC4ejxnjiUh_Tt4oSzBEIQIeIfR5A3IZrsOYh6JPGQAdZwEo_WENvT6F27Wf5vrzALg/s320/20171218_103314+%25281%2529.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmVtCyFzCFC9gAzhxi_GTyRbYg10U-1jdr4m5OzMLdDFchPqtKPgQBX41Mwyu4_2d_feb-qVrDG_wyAsgxwVcp1K71ZI5KnEW3QT26f1X7IaNTUb0qZsPXEKGjf-KjqQcQKG0V_nGV0Y/s1600/20171215_201315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmVtCyFzCFC9gAzhxi_GTyRbYg10U-1jdr4m5OzMLdDFchPqtKPgQBX41Mwyu4_2d_feb-qVrDG_wyAsgxwVcp1K71ZI5KnEW3QT26f1X7IaNTUb0qZsPXEKGjf-KjqQcQKG0V_nGV0Y/s320/20171215_201315.jpg" width="320" /></a>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-33813144335063111662018-02-07T17:00:00.001+03:002018-02-09T17:29:25.819+03:00My favorite christmas traditionDecorating cookies!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RqQ0qa4KEDR6iQsHkf2Kiw0WKwaWs2bQBXoc4RcB1A6FX4F6x4LYJRh0SeWH_NlMU6CEihpnapMjUAtlISVQIN1gZX-HgmRIAdHhUQjpYHtDd9kPzE1j47AHN65iCHPGoJ5bpv1sQsw/s1600/20171216_141109.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RqQ0qa4KEDR6iQsHkf2Kiw0WKwaWs2bQBXoc4RcB1A6FX4F6x4LYJRh0SeWH_NlMU6CEihpnapMjUAtlISVQIN1gZX-HgmRIAdHhUQjpYHtDd9kPzE1j47AHN65iCHPGoJ5bpv1sQsw/s320/20171216_141109.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CFiBpkXeJN1XJs-s-j-MTqIzA_xVaeVGD7HG7ojxbGAPDpYWtlnLs0ZoMaZLbdEHG3U_Cfoo4XE_4wmlRnMHMPDXqX7h9X3KnEJwNdM-qyTkwVoRMQxcWlZXzheZsdO2W4yQ0yCJWs4/s1600/20171216_141156.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CFiBpkXeJN1XJs-s-j-MTqIzA_xVaeVGD7HG7ojxbGAPDpYWtlnLs0ZoMaZLbdEHG3U_Cfoo4XE_4wmlRnMHMPDXqX7h9X3KnEJwNdM-qyTkwVoRMQxcWlZXzheZsdO2W4yQ0yCJWs4/s320/20171216_141156.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHM33qI39Wlxa_QBXQO1DeWR8sDw4kMQ3b99LymnsBP2iR8_G16uS16lX1XpC5NH3uJOnSeM-NjfsZK9g-SfLa3xRhk9W8r-eWE_SHbRZptkUKVfs7S24mna85dUTbOiV_y2Iv-PfIJ0/s1600/20171216_141119.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHM33qI39Wlxa_QBXQO1DeWR8sDw4kMQ3b99LymnsBP2iR8_G16uS16lX1XpC5NH3uJOnSeM-NjfsZK9g-SfLa3xRhk9W8r-eWE_SHbRZptkUKVfs7S24mna85dUTbOiV_y2Iv-PfIJ0/s320/20171216_141119.jpg" width="320" /></a>One hot afternoon in Gulu we decorated several dozen cookies for them to eat but also to let their Ugandan friends experience for the first time!Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-3697679614046363102018-02-07T17:00:00.000+03:002018-02-08T02:00:01.288+03:00Making salsa in Gulu<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCaXuBsFEai-_EJRLv5AJIrF9EacLgBNBw4f4eHBZPr65FXFsZRGxGTIplgdR4g8d4ZTs52_6r8jLc54RydwuWnp-o8w1rKAyqBSGOQo9ZAT8V5GAy2wtoVi-fhdZ8x3Idh7FaMOHEsY/s1600/20171214_105135.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCaXuBsFEai-_EJRLv5AJIrF9EacLgBNBw4f4eHBZPr65FXFsZRGxGTIplgdR4g8d4ZTs52_6r8jLc54RydwuWnp-o8w1rKAyqBSGOQo9ZAT8V5GAy2wtoVi-fhdZ8x3Idh7FaMOHEsY/s320/20171214_105135.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSRtM99ArCbHWpuXKxBNbtIjm4cxrIS3sj5h1Ba8ZKMeSrOrYZUSzhNtLCuCTwGhng3dDNouI4Qix7CqsO1l2y-9DqiYrz1rA55f9dRScn6_AQXxF5XZazwK0dNwrbzHEww3ViPa_u0s/s1600/20171214_105115.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSRtM99ArCbHWpuXKxBNbtIjm4cxrIS3sj5h1Ba8ZKMeSrOrYZUSzhNtLCuCTwGhng3dDNouI4Qix7CqsO1l2y-9DqiYrz1rA55f9dRScn6_AQXxF5XZazwK0dNwrbzHEww3ViPa_u0s/s320/20171214_105115.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKhG7CQVpy172mWhDKMDUf8rg-K1PmsbUwBl7lIwgbaxOSibZ32gn5Py64uWNgqDlMvwV4QcPF-USVDsFH3uJbliBMtyd-D5BW6ZFDaDD5jkXKfMHBpb4OAcbL1Zu3sq3CjbTzCAisOs/s1600/20171214_105046.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKhG7CQVpy172mWhDKMDUf8rg-K1PmsbUwBl7lIwgbaxOSibZ32gn5Py64uWNgqDlMvwV4QcPF-USVDsFH3uJbliBMtyd-D5BW6ZFDaDD5jkXKfMHBpb4OAcbL1Zu3sq3CjbTzCAisOs/s320/20171214_105046.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibFSnZClIr23O9DWsm4SmUGeKDaTvCLjrkpsoNbceRgAc98NHleQBbYUk8owZU3AyALBbVMdfDLeYj86_0ViNFoWphYwjjnIZ6huGzVOI4auqykku4aVLBFSYTSqUJ4c4PqcpHwa50z0/s1600/20171214_105042.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibFSnZClIr23O9DWsm4SmUGeKDaTvCLjrkpsoNbceRgAc98NHleQBbYUk8owZU3AyALBbVMdfDLeYj86_0ViNFoWphYwjjnIZ6huGzVOI4auqykku4aVLBFSYTSqUJ4c4PqcpHwa50z0/s320/20171214_105042.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdr9Syvfu9QiFDaJHvyiL5u4auE4NzDRUsjh6ce1Rd3p3q_BxBMnScSUJIvEBqOM6yGfIaRoXvUDNeHvVAipXGK7eLOTCo2keUIQFD7AMZq0bX6p9ePJsauRcIYyxlov6z5ZpMs4bUofk/s1600/20171214_120623.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdr9Syvfu9QiFDaJHvyiL5u4auE4NzDRUsjh6ce1Rd3p3q_BxBMnScSUJIvEBqOM6yGfIaRoXvUDNeHvVAipXGK7eLOTCo2keUIQFD7AMZq0bX6p9ePJsauRcIYyxlov6z5ZpMs4bUofk/s320/20171214_120623.jpg" width="320" /></a>Christina, the kids and I spent several hours chopping, slicing and simmering in her small 100+ degree kitchen, You can kind of tell in these pictures how sweaty we all are. However, at the end of all our hard work we had 14 sealed jars of salsa (and a few bowls for dinner) to show for it. Hopefully it lasts them a few weeks!Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-36757598443860889592018-02-07T16:49:00.000+03:002018-02-09T17:44:15.726+03:00Just a few more pictures <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10kwqt8HXV0-ujtc5oFEk2m9dsPmnMjJDuNbHtLnXnaTKFxLAQ93querFLIYnNW8tEPC99biOFsk65iuXvbxxlYsAyKVf3QefOjH2miSuWczx_jVZEhDAjU8GfM96voL8R0ma8dHKZNE/s1600/20171218_115626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10kwqt8HXV0-ujtc5oFEk2m9dsPmnMjJDuNbHtLnXnaTKFxLAQ93querFLIYnNW8tEPC99biOFsk65iuXvbxxlYsAyKVf3QefOjH2miSuWczx_jVZEhDAjU8GfM96voL8R0ma8dHKZNE/s320/20171218_115626.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making snowflakes to stay cool.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gIN5c2QYarCiFwZKpl1ggUcXWQ4ZXe63l8Ikcdfk5fZTTOAHnhzJPhds2HHKqQbmqsWJIkKehJn8K-A_KIac7qPJHIbjcN5ZodSj4AZfInbY8vCXREb0IPk4Z9vEdswcxEbDY991img/s1600/20171217_141741.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gIN5c2QYarCiFwZKpl1ggUcXWQ4ZXe63l8Ikcdfk5fZTTOAHnhzJPhds2HHKqQbmqsWJIkKehJn8K-A_KIac7qPJHIbjcN5ZodSj4AZfInbY8vCXREb0IPk4Z9vEdswcxEbDY991img/s320/20171217_141741.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-DOGxHakbDY6Gs5EzwPXSexF_qj54GROHS1pJHJXr6imBjIks-7HZ8m132_mhft8DmM-vY6P_2sOHJnjLO4L3pAtqTE4zHN6nIW5H6g9jpAM9JCgu1snHVPgijzRP1_0Crj6DfUEhdQ/s1600/20171218_115842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-DOGxHakbDY6Gs5EzwPXSexF_qj54GROHS1pJHJXr6imBjIks-7HZ8m132_mhft8DmM-vY6P_2sOHJnjLO4L3pAtqTE4zHN6nIW5H6g9jpAM9JCgu1snHVPgijzRP1_0Crj6DfUEhdQ/s320/20171218_115842.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Izaac made dozens of snowflakes. We had them hanging all over the house.<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjTEbjalVED9HsHiLt6Ly5hAUiA5K8OVHd0cgY4iQ6N59db51eiDxNrlZsdHe4r7-Vxlj3Jhfez6EQB5fzlZ2wBH6tn0uxXCBoRv3RMh_9nqzlFWJbJA9BA2WvuVy1r5loEU1f5IwxpE/s1600/IMG-20171216-WA0000.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjTEbjalVED9HsHiLt6Ly5hAUiA5K8OVHd0cgY4iQ6N59db51eiDxNrlZsdHe4r7-Vxlj3Jhfez6EQB5fzlZ2wBH6tn0uxXCBoRv3RMh_9nqzlFWJbJA9BA2WvuVy1r5loEU1f5IwxpE/s320/IMG-20171216-WA0000.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-33822675527010951142017-11-03T18:39:00.001+03:002017-11-03T18:39:09.795+03:00Changing<br />
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<a href="https://photos-6.dropbox.com/t/2/AABmccI_n1aVbaEM68_MA_M63mO-pZbvDe0_Gp5NNpZ7MA/12/250968286/jpeg/32x32/1/_/1/2/100_3763.JPG/EImU3OQBGIEmIAIoAg/0YzJielbgvzTLaIEAGOwUgPY6_7oYLb_kDIZg7_hnG4?size=800x600&size_mode=3" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="100_3763.JPG" border="0" height="240" src="https://photos-6.dropbox.com/t/2/AABmccI_n1aVbaEM68_MA_M63mO-pZbvDe0_Gp5NNpZ7MA/12/250968286/jpeg/32x32/1/_/1/2/100_3763.JPG/EImU3OQBGIEmIAIoAg/0YzJielbgvzTLaIEAGOwUgPY6_7oYLb_kDIZg7_hnG4?size=800x600&size_mode=3" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie79DpE6ZTgI-1UG4mK1i-YzZSesq5njIv2Zyf8dYZtw43JlZevGlqMYDEEw3sFo4gM3Q6RQ5LenvtOwTQBum_FcJ6wavislupOHW5J5FVSopNqyYFfz9hSY3Lxxi9n1Z7GHdtUosR21k/s1600/ER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="121" data-original-width="417" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie79DpE6ZTgI-1UG4mK1i-YzZSesq5njIv2Zyf8dYZtw43JlZevGlqMYDEEw3sFo4gM3Q6RQ5LenvtOwTQBum_FcJ6wavislupOHW5J5FVSopNqyYFfz9hSY3Lxxi9n1Z7GHdtUosR21k/s400/ER.jpg" width="400" /></a>Going from this to this might take me more than a week or two of orientation. But I'm glad I have a job. I'm also glad for well trained co-workers and actual physicians calling the shots. I'm glad for adequate pain control for my patients so quickly. And what feels like unlimited resources. (Actual lab work?! A CT scan within 30 minutes of arrival?! ) I don't think we are in Kansas anymore Toto!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIc5lPTIVWwtZ7B_yCUYOmkvHkpYk25ChlIIY61yaXeCUo3zxsoC-JD2cHmr5ZBhytZdjk84eHayQAlDE8gXQhPKg1qIO55LJgVPZDsENfTr0UAKf-bQWPgdc4sTfd3lpcfZ4qMKQoeGQ/s1600/leatherman.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIc5lPTIVWwtZ7B_yCUYOmkvHkpYk25ChlIIY61yaXeCUo3zxsoC-JD2cHmr5ZBhytZdjk84eHayQAlDE8gXQhPKg1qIO55LJgVPZDsENfTr0UAKf-bQWPgdc4sTfd3lpcfZ4qMKQoeGQ/s200/leatherman.png" width="200" /></a>In other news I'm trying to stop carrying a water bottle in my bag all the time. Did you know you can get clean, safe, free water practically anywhere here?! And I think I can take my Leatherman out of my bag too. I haven't used it in weeks. So I guess that means I can also stop carrying it around. But we've been through so much together.....</div>
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-8494544684999403262017-10-26T04:20:00.002+03:002017-10-26T04:27:16.823+03:00October Newsletter<iframe 240="" height="280" src="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B727Gp76Cc87MjlxUkRBUFd3OXc/edit?usp=sharing width="></iframe>Well, in the HTML publishing the newsletter is there. But seems like it isn't actually there. So maybe it is easier to just follow this <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B727Gp76Cc87MjlxUkRBUFd3OXc/view?usp=sharing">link</a>? By the way, if anyone knows how to help me actually make this embedded feel free to let me know.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-11947773706837555832017-10-23T03:49:00.000+03:002017-10-23T03:49:48.078+03:00Always thinking about Uganda. I've been I've trying to send this last newsletter out for a while now but I realized part of why this is proving to be so difficult is how final it feels. (Side note: If you didn't get my newsletter and would like to let me know, otherwise I'll try to put it on a post tomorrow.)<br />
Anyway, I'm having trouble right now with these things that feel so permanent. When I first arrived back in MI I had to purchase a few things but I realized that in the back of my head I was always thinking these will go back to Uganda with me whenever I go, for example running shoes or underwear. But now I need to start to get some winter things, or other things that I'll never need in Uganda. Like a belt.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-8PNWZrCV37JuzlfVJDa_Gr-y3uridlUXFi3Mv7L5y-sDJr3ycGu80prs4SY5YiNJyUYHlB4Uu5OyMaoTJG0h-QQ7dtzRtbti8XjPnGOcODATkbp7qWgCS-SgAsfkgVcU84aZIE909o/s1600/paracord.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-8PNWZrCV37JuzlfVJDa_Gr-y3uridlUXFi3Mv7L5y-sDJr3ycGu80prs4SY5YiNJyUYHlB4Uu5OyMaoTJG0h-QQ7dtzRtbti8XjPnGOcODATkbp7qWgCS-SgAsfkgVcU84aZIE909o/s200/paracord.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
I desperately need one here for the pants I had in storage but none of my Ugandan skirts have belt loops. So I'm having a terrible time bringing myself to purchase one. I'm using a piece of paracord right now, which I think is fine, but my mother rolls her eyes at every time she sees it and if even she is judging my fashion choices I guess I might need to reconsider.<br />
Same with warm clothes. And work uniforms. Seems like I can go back to work at <strike>Saints </strike>Mercy Health with the 2.5 old uniforms I have remaining from eight years ago, right?<br />
This block is for pretty much anything I need to purchase that I won't ever need in Uganda. Which is the same issue as this newsletter. I'm having such a hard time bringing myself to do it. To admit that I can stop thinking about returning to Uganda for a bit. To stop having Uganda impact all my decisions, purchases, etc... But I want to know when I'm going back. I want to have a date, even if it is six months down the road. Because this all feels so permanent. And I really don't like it.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-3669341881899670432017-10-18T19:06:00.002+03:002017-10-18T19:06:27.033+03:00Medical scamsA missionary friend just shared this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPQ7Wc90D2I">video</a>, discussing one of the many problems facing health care in Uganda. The video discusses how Chinese "clinics" are opening up around Uganda, telling people they can diagnosis and treat all their problems but are nothing more than scams offering fake but believable (for uneducated, inexperienced people) diagnostic testing and very expensive supplements as though they are medicine. This news reporter is right on. She doesn't address the problem in locations outside of the capital where it is far worse because people have even less understanding of physiology and disease.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySwrei_gIxMdyqdpEgMdFgOc99cXIiGEgI0PZr7F8cbKFw-3_8zSiENinPX6oETefojewkGztf9dHnEA0orQmj2iLqvYVm6YSt46Dhd0lI5fwQSkZWLEgSEbbxufNpDz-JUQ_3tdRo_A/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySwrei_gIxMdyqdpEgMdFgOc99cXIiGEgI0PZr7F8cbKFw-3_8zSiENinPX6oETefojewkGztf9dHnEA0orQmj2iLqvYVm6YSt46Dhd0lI5fwQSkZWLEgSEbbxufNpDz-JUQ_3tdRo_A/s320/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've encountered these "clinics" in Soroti, not run by Chinese, but by Ugandans who are part of the scam. The patient gets hooked up to a "machine" which is nothing more than an electrical tester, and gets a very thorough and very bogus diagnosis. The practitioner then gives them a list of "medicines" that the patient "has to" take. One family spent more than 500,000 for this (keep in mind that this is about $140.00 for a family that probably makes less than $20.00 a month) went home with a bottle of weeds. (and not the good kind of weed)<br />
But people are attracted to the testing and the confidence. I often had to tell people the testing they needed was not available to them or that there was actually no treatment possible. (The best laboratory is 8 hours away by bus for my patients and even that lab can't reliably do things like liver enzymes or ABGs at all. There are about 5 CT machines in the whole country and one MRI. There are only two places in the country people can receive chemo so needless to say we don't treat much cancer. And people don't understand that there is no fix for things like cerebral palsy or downs syndrome.) People want to grab on to hope, no matter how unrealistic is is and this huge scam really preys on the most poor, most desperate and most uneducated.<br />
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<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-28101804430514999442017-10-13T03:39:00.000+03:002017-10-13T03:39:03.352+03:00Obule Youth Conf<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbrBh2S04Ow2vXJLfVg4iaga_Ui0cL_IpTFJhwZ3R0U0wRo0r0ArMchhWlk6JKLAAuQOTFeiaYF5Wk7Q7qU6psgaKVjO6vhBHyigi_tbCOkI5jglAmu9Gi_UNe2YXuHbyOfVYzyTocM4/s1600/20170827_100947.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbrBh2S04Ow2vXJLfVg4iaga_Ui0cL_IpTFJhwZ3R0U0wRo0r0ArMchhWlk6JKLAAuQOTFeiaYF5Wk7Q7qU6psgaKVjO6vhBHyigi_tbCOkI5jglAmu9Gi_UNe2YXuHbyOfVYzyTocM4/s320/20170827_100947.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlo7TeG5ZoLamh5d3WbjpuOFhPetQutp6W_03Vn0Uqgzp7YoF-HbYPKjk5B1uWMqBRdw21gFegdRZq0Bb4mv48CfP5GyKmulXfNpXUUT5MkssEZVDFlttUY9toYegMMezu9Io074L8Uw/s1600/20170904_145739.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlo7TeG5ZoLamh5d3WbjpuOFhPetQutp6W_03Vn0Uqgzp7YoF-HbYPKjk5B1uWMqBRdw21gFegdRZq0Bb4mv48CfP5GyKmulXfNpXUUT5MkssEZVDFlttUY9toYegMMezu9Io074L8Uw/s320/20170904_145739.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTjUszFo7RQyiZdjPRLD0niRUAet6_6uPGApR0j9ny9tyrBNYXQb_1FpTXm4bnV6NvwbqretmZia5np-Fa-Xyl-XIFDTY4iUvqc2sTdVyDScI1K2de54XyYwrx8MF4Cdj8DoPap6dpFI4/s1600/20170905_090059.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTjUszFo7RQyiZdjPRLD0niRUAet6_6uPGApR0j9ny9tyrBNYXQb_1FpTXm4bnV6NvwbqretmZia5np-Fa-Xyl-XIFDTY4iUvqc2sTdVyDScI1K2de54XyYwrx8MF4Cdj8DoPap6dpFI4/s320/20170905_090059.jpg" width="320" /></a>200+ youth from around Soroti, singing, games, dramas, teaching, baptisms... it was a busy three days but well worth the work!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCe8sMtg_ARD4jbzd0FPDrVP5JFR97l5hhxzSPOOEtKhxLP1lIjSocV56obyL6oXkR_r-d0LOTuRlljCJ8ZW-KZwBgw8gP0mXNdJLiLmfVGbKmsWv38et25QOxg31JZQt4nsk5gXvDxvQ/s1600/bap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCe8sMtg_ARD4jbzd0FPDrVP5JFR97l5hhxzSPOOEtKhxLP1lIjSocV56obyL6oXkR_r-d0LOTuRlljCJ8ZW-KZwBgw8gP0mXNdJLiLmfVGbKmsWv38et25QOxg31JZQt4nsk5gXvDxvQ/s320/bap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9VjXoa9U5dOm75kH7FSz3WB30G037vSTNXWp9JsI2_aiHuPQFPsdywBt1axxEGgzyEYxo8B_3g2bPCjnAsutDDlEGCfBiN9KpuHg-rzUAUxb-PHpWFRSX7AcssODKSWSDBoGS2nmcOQ/s1600/baptism.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9VjXoa9U5dOm75kH7FSz3WB30G037vSTNXWp9JsI2_aiHuPQFPsdywBt1axxEGgzyEYxo8B_3g2bPCjnAsutDDlEGCfBiN9KpuHg-rzUAUxb-PHpWFRSX7AcssODKSWSDBoGS2nmcOQ/s320/baptism.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-47685990662599967632017-10-13T02:30:00.000+03:002017-10-13T02:30:13.767+03:00Closing the "rabbit project"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBU85ivVuP9t0btyD6o5G3vR3UKrkG0HFAV77c0rOykjCoPJZjQNVUkDM9FuSvfY80MfXdgG5Z0b7kRyG_vFzDd_L-gRR6x8De_Xr7yPL7q9dG8TYplIfvuz31kgFXdg9BsMtst2I05y0/s1600/20170912_115544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBU85ivVuP9t0btyD6o5G3vR3UKrkG0HFAV77c0rOykjCoPJZjQNVUkDM9FuSvfY80MfXdgG5Z0b7kRyG_vFzDd_L-gRR6x8De_Xr7yPL7q9dG8TYplIfvuz31kgFXdg9BsMtst2I05y0/s320/20170912_115544.jpg" width="180" /></a>I've been doing an informal rabbit revolving loan project with a few of the girls I sponsor in school. This was a really nice "closing" to their project. I got to see their newest litter of six and "handover" two to the next loan recipient. Really, they need their mother for a bit longer yet but now the next girl will start planting rabbit foods so she has something growing when she receives the babies in a few weeks. And we butchered one of my many males and roasted him. They had not yet killed one. They keep selling then for money but I've been encouraging them to also keep some for meat.<br />
They practiced and agreed it was much easier to kill/clean/prepare and taster than chicken.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s320/20170912_114009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Janet, in the black shirt, is the current recipient. She has told me that having rabbits to sell (an income) helps the neighbors respect her. (She has shared with me in the past that because her mother is a prostitute she is often mistreated.) In the blue shirt, Vicky, will be starting. She had lots of questions and Janet successfully answered most of them. (Seems there is still a bit of confusion on how to tell a male from a female but at least eventually, the one that starts having babies is surely the female.)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9e9lnJJOdlhRiwPBiKmRvawpUYMc8T6-Xm82lSGogSQwZakWRdBT933QeoVhNhqwmuujO0cKRgpm-b3KR-7BAjbxxoy_c5qti1Yrzgi_bOud81ojjymFBqRt02_Bt1k0-Zkll-jtVk4/s1600/20170912_114652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9e9lnJJOdlhRiwPBiKmRvawpUYMc8T6-Xm82lSGogSQwZakWRdBT933QeoVhNhqwmuujO0cKRgpm-b3KR-7BAjbxxoy_c5qti1Yrzgi_bOud81ojjymFBqRt02_Bt1k0-Zkll-jtVk4/s320/20170912_114652.jpg" width="180" /></a>Sorry that I don't have any pictures of all of us feasting (nine people on one skinny rabbit isn't actually my idea of a feast, but anytime these kids get an actual piece of meat, rather than some broth with just bones and bits of meat is their idea of a feast) but my camera battery was dead by the time I finally got it back after the butchering. They took 400 pictures but I'll spare you the other 397. But at least you get an idea of how much the whole event was enjoyed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9e9lnJJOdlhRiwPBiKmRvawpUYMc8T6-Xm82lSGogSQwZakWRdBT933QeoVhNhqwmuujO0cKRgpm-b3KR-7BAjbxxoy_c5qti1Yrzgi_bOud81ojjymFBqRt02_Bt1k0-Zkll-jtVk4/s1600/20170912_114652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKq6GSD0HVy3O2F6bzsYt8WxluXYFtim6a8zdxWAXTpSXzW84JHTbqt1eL4xLmFGVSWLILB-xcBhLrDxOPksgAePeLFmrF1RNaqQdUfku28W5zmCTPtbnXgI-VmMojZZ3Y5R3Fq9HNFiU/s1600/20170912_114009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7Q0hErqBKiRSng8JSWX53INYHSclfTi9cG5BSaM84JFDKsridcX3voze4WB3MQE3wrczHyMIAQ26B2IoTeeGxTqdCJr7qpXwCCnaSqFs3i7uEjK-TwLH_uWqj95qcrXSdJ-yIevBD4U/s1600/20170912_115112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7Q0hErqBKiRSng8JSWX53INYHSclfTi9cG5BSaM84JFDKsridcX3voze4WB3MQE3wrczHyMIAQ26B2IoTeeGxTqdCJr7qpXwCCnaSqFs3i7uEjK-TwLH_uWqj95qcrXSdJ-yIevBD4U/s320/20170912_115112.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-42100243509521687312017-10-12T20:38:00.001+03:002017-10-12T21:00:08.465+03:00Too many goodbyesRecently said good bye to these two families.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLPGArM7MM62N83ImyJhw8CHJT8muNI-7FxKK7LbPXQffhK5QMq8NXAB1uePF-ADrkmma2rw5MttXe1ayXd6OqNPZjQ0GwpPXpdyOm3lJYbXC0zK_T0oqLl7ldnxFA080ZanQmrz5BdE/s1600/20170918_125652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLPGArM7MM62N83ImyJhw8CHJT8muNI-7FxKK7LbPXQffhK5QMq8NXAB1uePF-ADrkmma2rw5MttXe1ayXd6OqNPZjQ0GwpPXpdyOm3lJYbXC0zK_T0oqLl7ldnxFA080ZanQmrz5BdE/s320/20170918_125652.jpg" width="180" /></a>This is Judith, her little baby, Anna, was the one who died back in March. When I went to visit she told me she was worried that she was never going to see me again after the burial. We had a really nice time just sitting and talking. (Usually the women insist on rushing off to cook when I come to visit and we never get to actually talk.) She is still convinced that witchcraft killed her baby so keep praying for her faith in God.<br />
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And Ester and her mother. Theirs is the baby that died the first week of June. It was the hardest burial I'd ever been to. Ester is mentally ill but remembered me and was actually happy to see me this last time. (The previous two times I'd seen her, when she was in labor and when we were bringing her baby's body back she was combative and angry at me- understandably.) Her mother cried when I told her I was leaving Soroti and said I was the only person who had ever loved them. I know that with the stigma of mental illness they are often criticized by the community and discriminated against. Even the other midwife at the clinic wouldn't help them because of Ester's status They insisted on giving me a chicken and a bag of cassava because I couldn't stay to let them cook for me. I know how they are barely scraping by to feed themselves but they would not let me say No to their gifts. Please pray they would feel loved by God. </div>
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(Because literally everything I own at this point fits in one of two bags and I have even handed the keys over to the landlord so I don't have a place to give this chicken water, I needed to give it away again quickly. Unfortunately, it overheated in the back of my truck on a typical Soroti sunny day but the town's resident homeless guy didn't care and happily took both gifts.)<br />
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-1586159768918223732017-10-12T20:10:00.002+03:002017-10-12T20:10:24.241+03:00Sara and Lazaro<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzr2Hkw5z6BgUH9iU9gBDDObqxRNH0GbchNzkww5Wyv3wWb0g1UCIFqWKYs4jFHojxgo3b_mHRB3tch2Oodk4xvnlDCVhps0qpMcY_fvGlRkxJIOnuifaed4p09qovOv27Ve_0efCNn4/s1600/20170916_130355.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzr2Hkw5z6BgUH9iU9gBDDObqxRNH0GbchNzkww5Wyv3wWb0g1UCIFqWKYs4jFHojxgo3b_mHRB3tch2Oodk4xvnlDCVhps0qpMcY_fvGlRkxJIOnuifaed4p09qovOv27Ve_0efCNn4/s320/20170916_130355.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZ3oOP6SwEQZXiun3Eh05xPxoerliQ8OnOixkLpkBq7c-FXO2yNbF8LmCuQBAO6xRUIHRfQsGBIDKTWpldUvqnGaCYrcE5MZvbSAnp3qQMC7-dyjs_0UdypvY60wbqf3cdWxHHu-7U_8/s1600/20170916_125524.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZ3oOP6SwEQZXiun3Eh05xPxoerliQ8OnOixkLpkBq7c-FXO2yNbF8LmCuQBAO6xRUIHRfQsGBIDKTWpldUvqnGaCYrcE5MZvbSAnp3qQMC7-dyjs_0UdypvY60wbqf3cdWxHHu-7U_8/s320/20170916_125524.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Pa6S7iloGPXPLEB25JSEcNMjzlnzuQdaD-BenAUSpvMK10PlEFT7aYTXFOWfal-LrW7h3evKfDXnAFksbjoo40p6wH89DTysNzsSv7VZIs-BOxq81UahV7cId83kbO4zM1E7nDv6afA/s1600/20170916_125959.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Pa6S7iloGPXPLEB25JSEcNMjzlnzuQdaD-BenAUSpvMK10PlEFT7aYTXFOWfal-LrW7h3evKfDXnAFksbjoo40p6wH89DTysNzsSv7VZIs-BOxq81UahV7cId83kbO4zM1E7nDv6afA/s320/20170916_125959.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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I've written about these two many times. I went to see them one last time. Goodbyes are never pleasant but I was very happy to see that Lazaro had been provided a wheelchair and Sara's small business is bringing in a bit of money. She has an old school sewing machine she powers by hand and does a little bit of taloring. She also is selling a few tomatoes and onions in her roadside stand. We didn't get to see Sara's baby, Steven, because he had been sent away to an auntie's house because the family decided it was time to wean and that is how they do it here. But they reported he is growing well and is healthy.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-73730558851932492892017-09-02T03:50:00.000+03:002017-10-12T20:11:34.033+03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtncvLsgwSHe5AUL0VF5qiNYmRiUrqrE4bWp2RJKuaAYBcHAfLONj0IIIp9Eni3J7ty1tj9JQbc2_-6SpKsERRLLY00iX2sFvINsY1z9ncB9GudqgHxBeAFayQax2RhZnax2uha_hQV4A/s1600/20170819_153611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtncvLsgwSHe5AUL0VF5qiNYmRiUrqrE4bWp2RJKuaAYBcHAfLONj0IIIp9Eni3J7ty1tj9JQbc2_-6SpKsERRLLY00iX2sFvINsY1z9ncB9GudqgHxBeAFayQax2RhZnax2uha_hQV4A/s320/20170819_153611.jpg" width="320" /></a>Remember Jarod? The little one year old with a head wound, <a href="http://atimeasthis.blogspot.com/2017/06/another-little-one-to-pray-for.html">story here</a>. His wound is really closing well. Still pretty malnourished but coming around slowly with some food support from Obule church. Praise God!<br />
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-42331833899757108162017-08-14T06:48:00.000+03:002017-08-19T10:50:15.352+03:00I've been really cut off lately. I got a new smart phone while in the US and it should have been rather straight forward to get it connected to a Ugandan network. But nothing in this country is straight forward. I needed to do a sim swap and went daily to the network shop and initially they didn't have 4G cards to sell. Then the cards arrived and the staff person who knows how to swap wasn't working and they weren't sure when she would be back. Then finally (after several days off) she showed up for work and she said their internet network wasn't fast enough to do it. Which, I should have seen that coming because for the first two weeks here I've had no internet to speak of. I mean, I paid 300,000/= (about $125) for data on my modem and it connected but it was too slow to even connect to e-mail. But, seems like I didn't actually want to be following the news this week anyway.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-18736771907301165172017-08-12T10:50:00.002+03:002017-08-12T21:51:23.440+03:00On being anonymous<div class="MsoNormal">
I have not been here long enough to miss pizza yet or even
have gotten over my jet lag. But I already really miss some things from
Michigan. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turns out the very first thing I miss from being in the
States is being anonymous. I’ve gone for three runs since I’ve been back and
I’ve already lost count of the inappropriate comments, the kids yelling at me
or the people pointing and laughing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago, when I was training for the tri, I had
decided to go to the beach to do an open water swim workout (in Michigan). On
the way there I couldn’t help but think, people don’t go to the beach alone,
and they really don’t swim laps back and forth beyond the swim bouys, and
people are going to stare at me. But, turns out, it didn’t matter. No one even
looked at me twice. (Or if they did it was subtle enough that I didn’t even
notice.) And I loved it! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday while in market several people welcomed me back.
Which seems like it should be nice. But the conversations went something like
this: “You’ve been missing!” “Yeah, I
went to go visit family.” “Next time, you take me with you!” or “I always want
to go to America! Get me a ticket!” I kid you not, roughly some variation of
this conversation happened three times. This seems to be a bit of a running
joke with Ugandans. But it is not completely a joke. They say it to most
foreigners and they mean it. They really want to go to America. But the truth
is, very few of them will ever get the chance. So what is my response supposed
to be? Do I just smile and laugh? However, I’m very sensitive right now to how
unequal things are. I don’t find it funny that they will never be able to
travel to neighboring Kenya, let alone America. And the truth is, they are
actually sensitive to it too. They joke about it but only because it is
something most of them really, really want. So, I really don’t like having this
conversation. Especially with people whose names I don’t even know and who don’t
know my name. Why is it OK that the guy I purchase meat from once a month
demand I get him an airline ticket to the US?!! Yet, I can guarantee it will
happen many more times this coming week. I would rather walk through market and
not have anyone recognize me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here is another one. Still in the market, I was having a
lady measure out 5 kg of rice for me (which takes a surprisingly long time
considering she does it 200 times a day) when the lady in the neighboring stall
picked up her toddler and pointed at me and said “See muzungu!?” This is also very common. Like if you saw a deer while driving you’d
say to you kids “See the deer!?” But
they do it with white people. And they tell their kids that we will eat them if
they are naughty. I am not the bugy man!
And I don’t think it is funny when you scare your kids with me.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, back to the lady measuring rice. While my hands were
full with my other market items, and I was trying to make change to pay for my
rice, and juggle the 5kg bag she was handing me, her young children, probably
six and four came up to me and tried to greet me. They were actually pretty
cute but I declined to shake their hands. So as I walked away I heard the two
ladies talking about how terribly rude I was. And maybe I am. But I was going
to have to set something down on the floor in the market to shake their hands. And they were filthy. Their hands were covered
in grime from playing in the mud. And the truth is those ladies would not have
expected any Ugandan to shake their child’s hand in that situation. But all day
long I’m expected to greet the children who are screaming greetings at me.
Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive about this. But when a group of children
in my neighborhood are playing (and they are always in a group!) One will see
me and start yelling “Muzungu, Muzungu! How are you?!” And if I ignore them they eventually go back
to whatever they are doing (though not without yelling several more times in case
I’m just deaf.) My neighbors think this
is terribly rude. I guess it is. But if I actually respond to them, every
single one now has to ask “How are you.” I am not exaggerating. I will have to hear
“how are you?” and say “fine” for every child there. No Ugandan has to do this. Children would
never scream at them as they walk or ride by.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And don’t even get me started on the inappropriate comments
from young men. Let’s just say that “Hey baby, you’re just my size” is the
thing said to me yesterday that bothered me the least. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok, this rant has gone on far long enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-81573823264598256942017-08-11T17:17:00.000+03:002017-08-11T17:17:13.761+03:00Back in Uganda<div class="MsoNormal">
Travel this time was mercifully uneventful. It was three
plane rides totaling more than 22 hours, two layovers of two hours each then
eight more hours of drive time. But no luggage was lost, no connections were
missed and I wasn’t harassed by any TSA agents. Overall, a success. Benj and
Christina met me at the airport and delivered me to Soroti. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd have pictures for you but the internet is just too slow. You'll have to just believe me. </div>
Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-35822602340710360902017-08-08T10:10:00.000+03:002017-08-19T10:34:01.220+03:00TriathlonsBack in January I felt like I really needed to start
training for something and a triathlon seemed achievable. Then reality set in and most of the time it
felt like I’d never be ready. But June
in Michigan proved fortifying. I got some solid swims in and the change from my
antiquated and poorly maintained Ugandan bike to my racing bike made it seem possible again.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHomB1VMORUDggHyXr_1jw95ZxYP3TWA948gTa-JmetSIHCSizhUBzP413NSMbYsPZ18PWlY5TfkVh3R3QeTsqTFIP3gFC-gy1SKKNcKtqhzGG6wJuTxG1SmnF4nyrd62tDipSB1GeME/s1600/transition+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHomB1VMORUDggHyXr_1jw95ZxYP3TWA948gTa-JmetSIHCSizhUBzP413NSMbYsPZ18PWlY5TfkVh3R3QeTsqTFIP3gFC-gy1SKKNcKtqhzGG6wJuTxG1SmnF4nyrd62tDipSB1GeME/s320/transition+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Transition 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowBThk1SpRXxKDRGc2DkXhoN7wUylLvfulz_ZXbBrfyPbK4UXWlzo8i_EZZR25y0ZUHoUtt13SRDvgw2a2QNRzs42AUjxVMxMVF6VKV6ZVogHyVI6DiKD0I3mqpjI5G860SxliazT9Js/s1600/DSCF2487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowBThk1SpRXxKDRGc2DkXhoN7wUylLvfulz_ZXbBrfyPbK4UXWlzo8i_EZZR25y0ZUHoUtt13SRDvgw2a2QNRzs42AUjxVMxMVF6VKV6ZVogHyVI6DiKD0I3mqpjI5G860SxliazT9Js/s200/DSCF2487.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This swim was terrifying!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-z0ClNjzuDVtOnmiY4VK4s8biMnmRc72dkQDDGBz2UgW6IIidhNKmzdzFccbjOAw81pCT9v9JccbdZwoRzJ3EdBnPF5VV9gt49TXgHpbi_6KAcTOmp5b-ANr6j7GaAPaAkigmX01wjU/s1600/bike+out.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-z0ClNjzuDVtOnmiY4VK4s8biMnmRc72dkQDDGBz2UgW6IIidhNKmzdzFccbjOAw81pCT9v9JccbdZwoRzJ3EdBnPF5VV9gt49TXgHpbi_6KAcTOmp5b-ANr6j7GaAPaAkigmX01wjU/s200/bike+out.JPG" width="200" /></a>So, I managed to complete my first Olympic distance Tri and do
far better than I thought I would. The mile swim was cold and long but I completed
in 33 min, then a 40K bike ride (25 miles) in just over an hour then a 10k run
in 52 minutes. I was the 5<sup>th</sup> female to finish and the 14<sup>th</sup>
overall out of a field of about 150. Final time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vz21y3zemDpy4vZmFF5WepBUVvOjg6VfThkew7bsH_vWFE-L-XIWenXS9hJ_qzxabPxwklWOccKmZt0fnSxDgoxcCAgQfr1aJekOAgy1JlS8ZoGmTrYaxdlWS34IyoBkwLr0nbkUN-M/s1600/swim+out.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vz21y3zemDpy4vZmFF5WepBUVvOjg6VfThkew7bsH_vWFE-L-XIWenXS9hJ_qzxabPxwklWOccKmZt0fnSxDgoxcCAgQfr1aJekOAgy1JlS8ZoGmTrYaxdlWS34IyoBkwLr0nbkUN-M/s320/swim+out.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3haLAyr9y1i-hXPirrWU6cSi_Sg6qfJZRr8JiRXgAWysi_M-qAZVo_a45AA_FQxZDaFtPvl-8FsVTOLnoigiBdoDJGhJy4-t4-BxYKQg4b9MCzUf0lb_fV3iLiX7qHC7FzjwoseH89UQ/s1600/recovery2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3haLAyr9y1i-hXPirrWU6cSi_Sg6qfJZRr8JiRXgAWysi_M-qAZVo_a45AA_FQxZDaFtPvl-8FsVTOLnoigiBdoDJGhJy4-t4-BxYKQg4b9MCzUf0lb_fV3iLiX7qHC7FzjwoseH89UQ/s320/recovery2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll walk again eventually. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-iDsQTm4tNnFP6JnwtDJ6SXJ2RyBClokVN-QFmfwhPmYUC4w55OAxfNrXq5n4wZOcmL4pfJdY4EH8cobbFD1oLoYCHFCub1iDxtf3NOkXw_pG203DsixSYJuPSV492POrgR2YSoBqAo/s1600/DSCF2505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-iDsQTm4tNnFP6JnwtDJ6SXJ2RyBClokVN-QFmfwhPmYUC4w55OAxfNrXq5n4wZOcmL4pfJdY4EH8cobbFD1oLoYCHFCub1iDxtf3NOkXw_pG203DsixSYJuPSV492POrgR2YSoBqAo/s320/DSCF2505.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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The following weekend went up to Big Rapids and after an eleven year hiatus, I reclaimed my title of fastest female in the CHR sprint triathlon. All the distances felt way to short and painfully fast after the long one but it was a fun day and didn't require nearly as much recovery time. 7:30 for a 400m swim, 20 min for a 5 mile bike and 25 min for a 5k and barely two min in transition I had a final time of 55:11. (1st Female, 6th Overall out of a field of about 75).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look! Only four seconds behind Michael Phelps!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Transition 1</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2006 and 2017</td></tr>
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Lots of family and friends came along to cheer and we had a nice picnic lunch (and a recovery nap!) on the beach after.</div>
Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-82469365820454915072017-06-26T04:55:00.000+03:002017-06-26T04:55:42.338+03:006/24On this blog I've always wanted to be honest about my flaws and humanness. Just because I'm a missionary does not mean I've even remotely got things figured out. As soon as I start thinking about outward appearances I see it first here, on social media. "What can I post or write or show pictures of that make me look good (or at least like I'm not falling apart)"? So here is me trying to be honest again. I need to admit that I'm a bit unmoored right now. Webster says this means "to loose from anchorage." But the second definition is "to bring to the state of riding with a single anchor after being moored by two or more" and I like that one better.<br />
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I know in my head that I can't keep functioning the way I was in Soroti. After this break I could go back to it and survive and maybe even do some good for people for a bit again but I'll be right back to this place. The suffering and needs are just too much. I don't know how to give what I can and not be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the remaining needs. So, something needs to change. I don't know what that is. Do I need to find a medical team to join? Possibly in Karuma, or Jinja or Mbale? Do I need to do something radically different in Soroti? Am I still being called to work in Karamoja? Am I supposed to be done in Uganda for now? I don't have the answers to any of these questions and God has been very quiet when I ask (over and over again.)<br />
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So for now I'm resting and praying and trying to take small steps. I'm trying to deal with false guilt and real anger. And for the first time in awhile I experienced God's presence in a reassuring way. I'd been missing it for a frustratingly long time. God reminded me in my quite time today how important my daily bible reading was. I was still readying and studying it but merely as a hoop to jump through early in the morning. Thanks so much to all of you who have been praying for me because "you have not because you ask not" applies to our scripture reading as well. I had not been asking or expecting anything from the scripture I was reading for quite a while now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxq9u7SGHq19JXd9B4eAupFJhP7iu0RjHAw5vhGwpJvH61LKLtL68L9HyorKx7A7P9oF0pQimQii_ZcoGW9QSYHDOXAzFkZz7hh0RPV3Hqw8c8oIPiN395HpyIojdPrdTUBN5vsIF4D0/s1600/Amelia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxq9u7SGHq19JXd9B4eAupFJhP7iu0RjHAw5vhGwpJvH61LKLtL68L9HyorKx7A7P9oF0pQimQii_ZcoGW9QSYHDOXAzFkZz7hh0RPV3Hqw8c8oIPiN395HpyIojdPrdTUBN5vsIF4D0/s200/Amelia.jpg" width="112" /></a>Setting your mind on things of God leads to enduring delight, genuine joy. I'd been missing this for too long. The suffering and daily grind seemed to be all I could see. There was no joy in it. But, He is restoring His joy. Mostly it is in swimming and my nieces and lots of manual labor but I'll take what I can get.<br />
<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-85271864494124397522017-06-19T16:47:00.000+03:002017-06-19T16:47:01.830+03:00NewsletterI sent an update/newsletter out early May but I'm realizing how few people got it. For those of you who didn't, sorry and here is the bulk of it.....<br />
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It is always an adventure here in
Soroti. My watchman just came to the door to
tell me he saw a cobra in the garden and he
suggests I keep the kitchen door closed. So
besides snake hunting, I’m keeping very busy
with regular clinic work three days a week,
lots of home visits and occasional teaching in a
variety of venues. <br />
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Because my work permit is
now being issued through the church in Obule
I’m in the village almost every day of the week
and the needs are overwhelming. It seems like
there is almost always a woman laboring in
the clinic or someone who needs to get to the
hospital or malnourished kids who need
follow-up. I love working with my tiny village
church that really has the heart of God and
serves sacrificially. The daily grind, however,
has really worn me down. The needs are
endless. I’ll be honest, I’m struggling right
now. So I’m taking some time off.
I’ll be back in MI for six weeks to rest, pray,
spend time with family, take a break from this
place and get my head on straight. June 21st to
Aug 7th. It is a short time and isn’t a furlough
so I won’t be doing the regular home
assignment activities. <br />
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Prayer Requests:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Wisdom and discernment. I’m inquiring of God if He has ministry changes in store for
me. Please pray with me that He would show me His will and I would have the strength
to be obedient to it whether it is to change or keep doing what I’m doing. </li>
<li>I’ll be attending a spiritual retreat for cross- cultural medical providers and also meeting
with a counselor to deal with some burnout when I’m in MI. </li>
<li>Rest in God’s presence and trust in His goodness. Peace, contentment and joy in Him alone.</li>
</ul>
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-54231413358272671122017-06-14T16:16:00.001+03:002017-06-14T16:16:56.344+03:00Travel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you ever have the opportunity to travel internationally with me, may I make a suggestion? DON'T. I do not have a good track record lately. I'm pretty sure I've missed more connections in international airports than any other person I know. This last trip was no exception. I left Soroti at 6am and got to the airport in plenty of time, around 4pm, with a scheduled departure of 6:30pm. By 7pm the plane was still not to the airport. We learned later that Saudi airspace was closed and so the incoming Qatar plane had to add two hours of flight time in order to go around. Then turn around for the plane in Entebee took at least an hour because Ugandan's just can't move quickly so our departure was more than three hours late. Then the five hour flight took seven so I arrived in Qatar more than two hours after my flight into the US left. So I was re-booked (along with the majority of the plane so it took awhile) at 4am for a new flight that didn't leave for seven more hours. We were all given meal vouchers and reminded that it was Ramadan so food couldn't be purchased or consumed after sunrise. I was so tired I found a tolerable chair and fell asleep for awhile, was woken by a cleaning crew at 5:30am only to discover I missed sunrise. I tried to tell myself I would be fine but after doing the math and realizing that it would be more than 12 hours since the last time I'd eaten if I waited for the next in-flight meal and I was already too tired and irritable I'd be dangerous if I added really hungry to the mix, I pretended to be pregnant so I could buy a juice. This lie doesn't bother me at all. Another challenge in Doha was that I somehow needed to get word to my family that I would not be coming into GR on the flight they thought I was. But my little Ugandan phone was useless and due to the airline electronics ban (for all flights into the US from middle Eastern countries), I had checked anything else I could have used. The airport does have a place where you can use computers so I got a message out but I suspect it was a bit cryptic.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Anyway, I did finally arrive in Chicago though that continues to be the worst airport in terms of courtesy and reasonableness. You are treated like a criminal in customs and immigration, even if you are an american citizen. I can't imagine what it is like for foreigners. I want to make a shirt that I'll call my travel shirt. It will say something to the effect "I have not slept prone for more than 36 hours, I'm eight time zones ahead of you, I've eaten nothing but airline food and I've tried to use several currencies. I want to be compliant but I need you to speak more slowly, enunciate a bit and stop yelling at me." I know it is too much for a shirt but a girl can dream right? Three or four weeks ago, in Soroti, my watch broke and I kept trying to duct tape it but when it got wet the tape would slip. So I used a heavy gauge retention suture and stitched it on. I didn't even think of it in the airport and had made it through at least six security points before Chicago but it was there they pulled me out because I had to take my watch off. I tried to explain that it was sutured on. They said it didn't matter, it had to come off. I said, I'm willing to take it off, just not physically able. If they wanted to give me something sharp to cut it I would. They explained it was a security point, no sharp things allowed. I kid you not, it took me more than an hour to clear this check point.<br />
Anyway, 9pm Thursday night, almost exactly 48 hours after I began traveling from Soroti, I arrived in Grand Rapids. I think my mom fed me and I'm pretty sure I found a bed but it is all a bit hazy.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-59420958439166722142017-06-14T00:57:00.002+03:002017-06-14T00:57:54.222+03:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, cat is out of the bag. A few of you saw me at church on Sunday. I'm back in MI a few weeks early. I came back because.... you know, if you say "I'm not sure I can do this anymore" out loud enough times, it becomes true.<br />
Friday AM found me headed to the hospital to do some teaching about HIV and I got a frantic call from the grandmother of baby Jennifer. <a href="http://atimeasthis.blogspot.ug/2017/05/for-my-nursing-friends-at-least-you.html">(First blog here.)</a> She told me Esther had dropped the baby and she was now "acting strange." I met them on the way in from the village and it was obvious from the moment she handed her to me this was a dying baby. We rushed into the hospital and I commandeered a treatment room for a set of vitals. Later, upon further questioning it seems Esther actually shook the baby because she wouldn't eat. She was extremely dehydrated when I first got her so I'm not sure if there was something more going on before the trauma or not. We rushed into the NICU where we did all we could with our limited resources but at noon I unhooked her from everything and handed her back to her grandmother to take her final breaths. Then grandmother needed help transporting the body back to the village so I took them home. Esther didn't know yet the baby had died and it was terrible to see. This mentally handicapped mother knew she was the cause of her baby's death. She started screaming and throwing herself on the ground. Most of what she was yelling was in Ateso but she would switch into English and tell the baby over and over that she was sorry, so sorry. The culture uses wailing to notify all of the neighbors of a death and everyone comes over to see and mourn together and this was no different. Grandma and Esther started the wailing and each new woman who arrived added to the weeping and keening. This baby's death just seemed so needless. We had done so much to give her a good shot at life. I loved this little peanut.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHoRyP3NoRQqJ8TkbcGiRSBxOvUd-2jJuoBs8DP73JSXfpHh5pJeZmWbz7SdoMqZHp2GAj5YfVJhgrYG3-gaE9hLrUw7iPKJN10iL0JSDE7lsada8mbkmu3CwjnF0bIUuN31y9SFyNAE/s1600/baby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="97" data-original-width="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHoRyP3NoRQqJ8TkbcGiRSBxOvUd-2jJuoBs8DP73JSXfpHh5pJeZmWbz7SdoMqZHp2GAj5YfVJhgrYG3-gaE9hLrUw7iPKJN10iL0JSDE7lsada8mbkmu3CwjnF0bIUuN31y9SFyNAE/s1600/baby.JPG" /></a>Between her and a few other cases I just needed a break. The suffering and need is never ending. I tried to take Saturday off and my phone rang all afternoon and there were several people knocking at my gate. It is just as hard to say No and send them away as it is to engage in their need. On Sunday at church a woman brought me her two extremely malnourished children and with tears in her eyes begged for help. I just wanted to go to church and not be responsible for a few hours. But it seems there is no way to be off duty. I feel wrung out and like I've got nothing left to give. I can't seem to find contentment and I know I'm working in my own strength instead of God's. So it is time for a break. Some prayer and perspective.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-7313170359403058832017-06-04T06:26:00.000+03:002017-06-06T07:45:46.048+03:00Another little one to pray for<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvzkOwQUruZbhky4DJFJ0oAjMWypPRd-Kxxh0Y1Qvmo-VbezHKxbcmS66kVB6JGIAqrVMcBS0hWWlSTMJ4XQfteKsT_yu0MtGQWLVnv6-k7q-_JJ_cEQPh4OhWSWS6Y5S_UxLz5djVO0/s1600/100_5789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvzkOwQUruZbhky4DJFJ0oAjMWypPRd-Kxxh0Y1Qvmo-VbezHKxbcmS66kVB6JGIAqrVMcBS0hWWlSTMJ4XQfteKsT_yu0MtGQWLVnv6-k7q-_JJ_cEQPh4OhWSWS6Y5S_UxLz5djVO0/s320/100_5789.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jarod is one year old and is suffering the effects of someone dumping concentrated quinine into a sub-q scalp IV. Poor little guy has been in for surgical debridement twice and still has a long road ahead of him. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxvg_EFPEzIpBocK6FRxXqrV-UWLs9jvgd7IAcYSYlKSIXchTcke-jeP39qBkc5Ify6eZQxUVh1W8XUBzDoHd4mYhBdf955GR2Ftn40Euc2eHQbWsg26M68PzLy757hsSJXEFz_z1i2M/s1600/100_5795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxvg_EFPEzIpBocK6FRxXqrV-UWLs9jvgd7IAcYSYlKSIXchTcke-jeP39qBkc5Ify6eZQxUVh1W8XUBzDoHd4mYhBdf955GR2Ftn40Euc2eHQbWsg26M68PzLy757hsSJXEFz_z1i2M/s320/100_5795.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding him down as anesthesia wears off before they are finished.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYp9bzFa3jod-ZC_MzdQSxey68tyse5qdMqCje_A8O0x6zQKOF1CEbmW2Z6XH-673tk4CQNBN_DWCQX5tUY4UMWYxjdVD7JCMQvJvuKjcututMJzpyTgqiUrz1RjdOpTw9pcjDp-G-JA/s1600/100_5798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYp9bzFa3jod-ZC_MzdQSxey68tyse5qdMqCje_A8O0x6zQKOF1CEbmW2Z6XH-673tk4CQNBN_DWCQX5tUY4UMWYxjdVD7JCMQvJvuKjcututMJzpyTgqiUrz1RjdOpTw9pcjDp-G-JA/s320/100_5798.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8SQMV5Y-nrvxuQS4RYatOAS9b8iNHPztwcDPxj_tN8gUJHn8cMPB1vaEnnIaXNSavCGSq7XyzT1OzFwURCnxoaX43jFFjNcdREK3iEGj_oaQNMZbszULTDgIzR8rK3cm_KgHHi9FoDY/s1600/100_5800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8SQMV5Y-nrvxuQS4RYatOAS9b8iNHPztwcDPxj_tN8gUJHn8cMPB1vaEnnIaXNSavCGSq7XyzT1OzFwURCnxoaX43jFFjNcdREK3iEGj_oaQNMZbszULTDgIzR8rK3cm_KgHHi9FoDY/s320/100_5800.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnKnCaxMl1q2waq9gO1vysR0_XLguWecP8tpq2AifTkOtZrBVEqEAWyDSesIarmt5EH11QRNehwtL25BqBahOz9wanFOxsP0Yy7h4mUm8VUpCeg6nXJ7iZn07V45dRq5anDmjA4ruWEc/s1600/100_5799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnKnCaxMl1q2waq9gO1vysR0_XLguWecP8tpq2AifTkOtZrBVEqEAWyDSesIarmt5EH11QRNehwtL25BqBahOz9wanFOxsP0Yy7h4mUm8VUpCeg6nXJ7iZn07V45dRq5anDmjA4ruWEc/s320/100_5799.JPG" width="320" /></a>He is at very high risk for sepsis, meningitis, or any of a whole host of other unpleasant diagnosises on top of the fact that it is really painful and he is terrified. He is extremely malnourished (as is his mother and five year old sister who is the size of a three year old. His cheeks look nice and fat but that is edema from Kwashiorkor.) His father is an alcoholic and I've been out to their home three times and never met him.<br />
We have him admitted at Bethesda because he needs twice daily dressings under sedation and IV abx but I really had to push for his admission. (He was discharged after the first surgical debridement but was feverish and lethargic yesterday and I just can't give him the care he needs at home.) I'm having a terrible time trusting him to the staff there and I just really want this little guy to have a good outcome. Please pray for them and me.<br />
6/6 <span style="background-color: #f6f7f9; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f9; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="UFICommentBody" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Update for all of you praying: He is doing really well and loves eating atap and meat at the hospital. He is still inpatient there but all signs look good. Praise God!</span></span></span></span></span>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091798672967924817.post-44435010771378110092017-06-02T14:52:00.001+03:002017-06-02T14:52:08.757+03:00Esther's little baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ67e5lJA9ka0Kzn44SNjZQiwU9oB8t2BRXWy0ljWI9gFcGRPnEhyX3vIvEk7sDCnxNQBsyQ5Dbn9Dorv_kVpIDfoxGPrRX2FlYW3A1kWI_fEZNp1arp5nUcd97ooh_SPOOsDzP-rN2MA/s1600/100_5802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ67e5lJA9ka0Kzn44SNjZQiwU9oB8t2BRXWy0ljWI9gFcGRPnEhyX3vIvEk7sDCnxNQBsyQ5Dbn9Dorv_kVpIDfoxGPrRX2FlYW3A1kWI_fEZNp1arp5nUcd97ooh_SPOOsDzP-rN2MA/s320/100_5802.JPG" width="240" /></a>Esther's little baby died early this afternoon at 18 days old in Bethesda's NICU. She weighted 1900 grams. I wrote about them last <a href="http://atimeasthis.blogspot.ug/2017/05/update-on-jennifer-and-esther.html">here</a>. Please be praying for Esther and her mother. </div>
<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06979626874587528654noreply@blogger.com0