Day 38 Slump

By Christy

Well, the “honeymoon” of this world venture came to an end on Day 38. After our priceless Kenyan welcome, and our wonderful first day tour of the Children’s Home with Winny and all the children,  and meeting many of the friendly staff of Empowering Lives…3 days in, we hit the wall.
It was Tuesday afternoon when I think all 4 of us hit “bottom” at the same time. It was late afternoon and we had to come up with a plan for leading a devotion time at the children’s home within the hour, and also a plan for our class visits at the school tomorrow morning. This morning, we had led a workshop session with the Graduates, doing some “experiential” exercises on the topic of critical thinking, which they were covering in their training. It was sooo different leading some of the same exercises here that we had led with youth in Uganda. Unlike the boisterous, laughter-filled banter in our debriefs at Camp, here they were shy and timid, and when we asked a  question to spark group discussion—it was deathly silent. Was it us?…was it the topic?…would we be able to break through?
Then, we were slated to lead a session after lunch with the kids from the Children’s Home who had completed 8th grade and the qualifying exam and were just days from leaving for Boarding School for the first time. We decided it was a good fit to take them through the outdoor Trust exercises, which would have some good “life wisdom” at this critical turning point. Well, not all of our “we” thought that was a good idea, it turns out. Trevor, who usually “goes along for the ride”and rarely has strong opinions, made a declaration: “I never want to do this Trust sequence again, EVER. We have done it over and over – in Uganda, and here. I cannot handle doing it AGAIN.”
Oh, boy…didn’t see that coming. Quite candidly, I couldn’t agree more. If I have to facilitate the Trust activity sequence one more time, I’ll go nuts! The mere thought of it made me groan. But on the flip side, it is such a great tool, and it’s new for each group, and it gives such great insights.

Total Parent Dilemma: Do we force him to participate with us, and have him be miserable and resentful…or do we let him sit out, and have the member of our team whom these kids would enjoy most – someone their own age–be glaringly absent? On the one hand, he has been such an amazing trooper with everything we have done thus far, I wanted to give him an out. But on the other hand, this is a service  venture…and service includes sacrifice and giving to others even when you don’t feel like it. And we’re all in this together.  We struggled through some hard conversation, attempting to come up with a solution we could all agree on, but we were stuck. Total Impasse.

In the end, we worked out a compromise, deciding to go with a new relay activity Trevor proposed, and that he would set up, while me, Barry and Shayla kicked things off with the Trust activities.  Here goes.

Once again, we were faced with a very shy and timid group. We  got through the first Trust activity, awkwardly, then onto the 2nd. Given how hesitant they were, I didn’t want to put one of them on the spot to be first to go…and usually we have our facilitation partner be the “guinea pig.” Just then Trevor walked up after setting up the relay activity. Perfect! “Trev, will you go first for us?” Little did I know, it was going to be far from perfect. Trevor stepped into the circle, and once given the signal, proceeded to fall into the hands of the group, just as we had done many times before. Only this time, their nervousness, or Murphy’s Law, or something, kept them from catching him, and in a flash—BAMMM! Trevor hit the ground with a thud, flat on his back! Oh, No! No, of all people, not Trev, who didn’t want to do this in the first place! I could see in his eyes as he fought back the tears that it had hurt, big time. It knocked the wind out of him, no doubt. “Oh, I’m a schmuck…He’s going to remember this for years to come. I’m a horrible mom.” If I could only turn back the clock and have a “do over.”
Ay-yay-yay. Trev sat on the ground off to the side to recover, while I tried to lead a “regroup” conversation with the students. Well, there’s some raw material for a discussion on trust, eh? After a bit of processing, I stepped into the center to go next, and we gave it another go. Fortunately, I or the students that followed didn’t get dropped, but as you could expect, there was a feeling of reluctance in the air, and several of them played the option to “pass.”

Barry whispered a proposal that we abort the final Trust activity and go straight to the relay as an energizer instead. So, on to the relay, we went.     
                                                                           
Phew…we made it through to the end, but I had that drained feeling that I get when I pour out a lot of energy with an “introverted” group of engineers in my leadership workshops, and there is no reciprocal energy in response. We were told the Kalenjin people of this region were of a quieter nature, especially in groups, and we were certainly experiencing it firsthand.
So now here we were in the late afternoon, tired, discouraged and deflated. We were trying to come up with some creative ideas for our classroom visits, or in fact any  ideas that we could all agree on. We kept shooting down each other’s ideas and we had no clue what the teachers expected or what would be valuable or appropriate. We were brain-dead, emotionally drained, and cranky.  It was absolutely miserable.
In the midst of this, Trevor said, “A trip like this without a team is really lame.” When he said that, all I could see were loong months, stretching out before us…and a feeling of absolute dread began to swallow me up. Oh, my, it’s just us from now on. Until now, we’d been part of a team, and we’d been riding on that energy. In India, and Uganda, we had joined teams who had been there before, and had planned things in advance, and brought lots of fun activities and cool supplies. Now it was just the 4 of us, and we’d arrived
“empty handed,” or so it felt. Oh, man, how this would put us to the test, and create a lot of strain between us. I cringed at the dreary image that was now forming—of what the weeks—and months(!) ahead would be like.
The “honeymoon” is over.
So far, this experience has been absolutely incredible…too good to be true. Somehow, we had gone 38 days in different countries, with totally foreign foods, languages we didn’t understand, and endless unknowns, and yet we’d had no sickness, no snags, and no notable setbacks or disappointments. It had been unreal.
Well, here on Day 38, “reality” finally set in.
Our hearts felt so heavy, missing our precious friends in Uganda, and Thailand, and India. Our heartache over our recent goodbyes in Uganda was casting a shadow over everything. It was sooo difficult starting over again. 4 more months. This was going to be HARD.
Oh, how we need prayer right now. Prayer that we will feel connected and that we can open our hearts up again to our new friends here, and that they will feel drawn to do the same. Prayer for energy, as we are feeling really run down. Prayer that we will depend on God for strength instead of trying to go it alone.
And if we hadn’t gotten discouraged enough yet…Day 38 wasn’t over. In the middle of the night, we heard Trevor calling our name. We found him in the bathroom, huddled over the toilet, throwing up. Oh, poor Trev, why did the first one to get sick have to be him? I wished I could take his place. Well, the mom in me wanted to switch places, but the rest of me, uggh, I was filled with dread at the thought of catching whatever he had and wanted to dive into a pool of disinfectant, especially after seeing him suffer through 2 more bouts of vomit through the night.
Oh, my, which one of us is next??
Yes, the honeymoon is over.

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First Day - New Friends in Kenya

On our first morning in Kenya, we attended church on the ELI property. We loved seeing a group of twenty youth come up the aisles to sing a worship song complete with joyous dancing.

Then, a boy who looked about Trevor’s age came forth to lead worship on the mic. He had a voice that just filled me with joy when I heard it, and I could tell as I watched him sing that he had music “inside him,”just like Joel in Uganda. We later learned that it was Kelvin, a boy in 7th grade like Trevor, whom we would come to adore.

After the singing, Samuel had our family come up front before the congregation. Again, we felt humbled by how they treated us with such importance. We were beginning to learn that we had better be prepared to say something as honored guests…but it took us by surprise and like the day before, it happened in a blur, and I’m not sure what we each said. I do recall at the end of our sharing, I told them I remembered one Swahili song from my time in Kenya many years ago—Mungu yu mwema (God is so good), and they knew it too, so we all sang it together. We took our seats again, and were relieved to be “out of the spotlight” as the service proceeded.
Afterward, when I was standing with Laban, I met one of the Sudanese Boarding students, Magdaline, a student in grade 8 (who wasn’t especially tall, like the others).  We learned right away that her mother still lives in South Sudan, and her father was killed in the war with North Sudan. Laban knew some of her story, and he said, “I’m so sorry he was killed in the war.” Without even a speck of pause, Magdaline, responded immediately:
“That is just the way life is.”
Wow, did that hit me when I heard her words—just as it had hit me when we learned about the LRA in Uganda abducting children and forcing them to be killing soldiers—that the experiences of so many young people here in Africa were SO utterly foreign to anything we can fathom.
NO, that is NOT the way life is, not for most young people in America, that is. It is beyond unimaginable for a child to be forced to murder, let alone to kill their own family members, as Kony’s army forced children to do. And it is rare and totally tragic to lose a parent, as so many kids have here, either from war or from AIDS. To hear her say, “That is just the way life is”—so matter-of-factly--had a profound impact on me.
The topic of the war led her to explain that in South Sudan, it is mostly women and girls in the country because most males were killed in the war. Again…Wow. That is so hard to wrap my head around.  Because of this, she explained, men have many  wives. From there, she and Laban explained that a man pays cows as dowry for a wife. Laban said that in Kenya, it is standard for a man to give 5 cows for a wife, and that is what he gave to his wife, Angelina’s family as a dowry. They explained that multiple goats and sheep can count as 1 cow, and also how having many wives is a sign of wealth, because it means a man has many cows. From there, we moved from one topic after the other. Already I just loved this girl, and how frank and how grounded she was. She seemed wise beyond her years! Before we parted, she said how much she hoped that our family could join she and the other Boarding students at their evening devotion time during our stay here. I certainly hoped we could…I was so taken by her, and hoped to have the chance to spend more time together. She had already left a lasting imprint on my heart.

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Our New Home Away from Home - Part I

By Christy

After our incredible welcome “ceremony”, it was time to get our bags out of the van, and take them to our new home away from home. We had no idea what our room here would be like. Dennis brought the van up to some round huts, and led us to a cottage behind them. We stepped inside, and my mouth dropped. There was a spacious sitting room! Wow—we hadn’t had one of those in our first 6 weeks on the road. We opened the door to a bedroom. It was a round “hut” room modeled on the traditional African hut, with 2 dressers and a poster bed enclosed by a mosquito net.


A bed for 2--this would be my and Barry’s room. We went to see what the other room was like for the kids. Much to our surprise, there was not just one other room, but TWO! Oh my, Trevor and Shay will each have their own space?!? Unbelievable! And there was more! There was a kitchen…and a total bonus—a “nook” with a desk space where the kids could do school work! Wow…we “oohed” and “awed”. After the 4 of us were in the same room in India with our beds side by side, or 2 small rooms elsewhere, this was utter luxury! We called it our “5 Star Hotel” and laughed aloud in disbelief! We felt quite spoiled! We realized by the photos that this was where the American ELI Director had lived with his family for 2 years, and where he likely stays when he is here.
As I started unpacking, Trevor did a bit more exploring and discovered a storage space behind the wall in our bedroom, which he dubbed “the Rec Room.” He seemed quite pleased to begin a series of “Show & Tell.” Every couple minutes he emerged with a new “find”: a badminton racket, a jump rope, a frisbee...he caught me off guard when he came rolling thru the sitting room on a scooter with the handle bars just 12 inches high. I started cracking up! I think my all time favorite though, was when he appeared grinning from ear to ear with his “magic wand”—a large silver tinsel star on the end of a stick the width of a broom handle. I was so happy that there were some fun, random amusements for Trevor to enjoy as a welcome gift just for him. He was definitely getting a kick out of it!
After settling in for a bit, it was time for dinner (or supper, I should say). When  we walked into the “Dining Hall” room, there were young people scattered at different tables eating together. These must be the “Graduates” we have heard about (more about that coming in our blog)!
Someone pointed us to some silver pots with a “screw-on” lid. We lifted the first to find spaghetti noodles, and another to find ground meat (ground beef?). That’s the last thing we expected for our 1st Kenyan meal! Right in front of us was a “service window” with a man--Joel the cook--standing behind huge metal pots and serving up thick, pasty white blobs onto the Graduates’ plates. UGALI!!

It had been about 27 years since I had seen ugali--the staple food in Kenya--but one glimpse took me right back to my summer in Kenya in college all those years ago. They must be easing us Mzungu— “white ones”—into things with the pasta. I asked if I could have some and he gave me a small “slab” and spooned some broth over it.
We found our way to a table to sit with students. I sat near 3 young men. I tried making conversation, but it was awkward as they spoke softly and very timidly. I asked a few questions, but we didn’t get very far.
A couple of the ELI leaders came to meet us and sit with us over chai tea after dinner: Samuel and his wife Roda who founded Samro School, and Laban, the Children’s Home Director and his wife Angelina. We got to learn more about the various ministries under ELI and Samro School. In addition to the Training Center, there was also a Polytechnic Center across the road, where young people are learning tailoring.

They also shared that the school has about 50 Boarding students, most of whom are from South Sudan. They told us we would definitely be able to recognize the Sudanese students by how extremely tall they are! After more of our questions and their stories, we headed back to our cottage to settle in for the night. Samuel also warned us that we might hear a rat on our roof. We laughed, saying it would make us feel right at home, since right before we left our home in California, we were setting traps for some critters that had taken refuge from the rain in our attic.
In the morning we woke up and went to the church service after breakfast. Samuel saw us making our way to some chairs in the middle of the room, and he intervened and had us take seats in the very front row. The service began with singing songs out of a song book. It was a bit of a shock, coming from our very exuberant worship experiences in Uganda, to be in a room full of Africans, singing politely out of a hymn book. Wow, what a different feel! No drums, beating, no one swaying or dancing together to the underlying rhythm. Next, a group of students came forth to sing, all in uniforms. A second student group sang next, entering down the center aisle from the back, and they did get a tad lively with some rhythmic steps. These must be some of the Sudanese students they had told us about—some were a foot or 2 taller than their peers. They were right when they told us we’d recognize the Sudanese students--boy, these were some tall  8th graders!

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Kenya Karibu: A Warm Welcome!

By Christy
It was such a comforting sight when our car pulled up outside the Sirikwa Hotel in Eldoret, to see a smiling Kenyan man awaiting us. (The 4 of us blonde Mzungu were not difficult to spot!). We had been in Richard’s car traveling from Uganda since 9:30am, taking in all the roadside sights through our car window as we went. 
I say the smiling man was a comforting sight because we had exchanged emails in advance and chosen that meeting spot in Eldoret, but it was now almost 5pm, and we had suggested to him that we might arrive as of 3:30. Was he waiting all that time? I was hoping he would stay home and we could reach him from a local phone once we arrived in town, since our cell phone didn’t yet work in Africa.
It was another HGAC (“Huhgack”) moment, as we had come to call them—a “Haven’t Got A Clue” moment, that feeling of being on completely unfamiliar ground—either having no idea what was going on, or realizing you really have no way of controlling the situation, or having no idea what was about to take place next (or all 3!). We had done our “research” to find this Kenyan organization months back at the comfort of our laptop, but no one we knew had ever volunteered with this organization or been here, and we really had no idea what to expect.
So it was a comfort to see a smiling man there to greet us, and a surprise to see him smiling after he’d waited patiently for an hour and a half with no word from us. That man was Dennis Kiprop, the director of ELI’s (Empowering Lives International’s) Ukweli Training Center, a ministry here in tandem with the children’s home we were coming to visit. Dennis gave us warm greetings, then we loaded all our gear into the van, and we were on our way to the village of Ilula. We drove through the bustling city center—seeing men on loaded down bicycles, piki pikis (motorcycles) with 4 people and a half dozen “upside down” chickens, and women walking with water jugs expertly balanced on their heads.

We continued on paved roads for about 10 minutes, and then got on a bumpy dirt road with huts scattered here and there.

We saw sheep grazing along the side of the road, and Dennis honked or stopped for cows that were meandering in our way.

I wasn’t sure how much longer the drive was. It was nearing dinner time…perhaps when we got there, we would take our bags to our room and have something to eat tonight, and get the chance to meet people in the morning.
After a few more minutes, Dennis pulled through a big iron gate, and proceeded down a long dirt “driveway.” As I peered through the windshield of the van, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next. There before us was a whole crowd assembled on the circular dirt drive, looking toward us as if they were awaiting our arrival. I peered at the gathering of about 70 people standing together in an L-shaped formation, looking in our direction…toddler aged children on up to teens, and a sprinkling of adults.

Stunned with surprise, the 4 of us stepped out of the van, moving in slow motion as we took in the scene. A man approached us, smiling enthusiastically and greeting us in Swahili: “Karibu!” (Welcome!). He led us to the beginning of the assembled line. There, the children at the front presented each of us with a bouquet of red and white roses, tied with festive ribbons.

They were all singing a song together, a call & response song led by a teenage girl (whom we would come to know and love, named Mercy), standing halfway down the line.
I was at the front of our procession, and Trevor was next behind me, and then Shay and Barry. I leaned down to get “eye level” to shake the first little one’s hand, and then another, and then another, and continued down the line.  What a privilege to get to shake each child’s hand and greet each one  (“Jambo!”) individually as they sang that precious welcome song!

It was absolutely surreal—moving down the curving line, listening to the beautiful sound of the children’s voices singing in one accord, as the setting sun cast a golden glow on the round huts behind them. It was soo moving. Tears filled my eyes (though I know that’s no surprise to my friends reading this!).

As we came to the end of the greeting assembly, the 4 of us found ourselves standing in front of the crowd, as if on stage. It was all a blur, so my recollection is fuzzy about the details that followed, but 2 men ( Laban and Samuel, I think), each shared some official words of greeting on behalf of everyone (and Empowering Lives).

Then they looked to us. This would be the first of many times in Kenya when we are introduced to a group and expected that each of us will have something  (worthwhile) to say! I have no idea what any of us said. I just remember being completely overwhelmed by their generous welcome. Their words were so gracious and honoring, and made us feel as if our coming was a GIFT, and yet, Oh, how I felt just the reverse – that we were so incredibly fortunate to have the gift of being here with them.
That welcome was one of the most unexpected and humbling moments of my life. They treated us like royalty. It felt so undeserved.
While I don't remember much of what Samuel or Laban said, I do remember the last thing.
"Welcome Home."
Those words touched me at a very deep place, and resonated. Despite how much here felt new and foreign and unknown, it did feel, truly, like we had just arrived "home".

Wow. Well, here we are in Kenya! We were so moved by their welcome, and we couldn’t wait  to jump in and begin our time with our new family!

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Uganda be kidding me, Camp Life is Beyond Amazing

By Shayla

I woke up Monday morning to the streaming sun through my mosquito net and I realized that today was the day, camp begins after all of our planning and preparation. To be honest I was still hesitant about campers arriving, something in me felt unprepared for the week, I just wanted to spend more time with my staff brothers. We had already broken the ice with the staff and not only that we had grown close, we were a team. A team of fun, God loving, determined, kind, and exuberant people. I felt so close knit...I didn't want to face unfamiliarity again, or for the team to unravel because of all the campers around. As campers started showing up, I stayed close to my brothers, observing these new faces as they arrived in clumps. 
Little did I know, God had a plan for me. The first two people I met, two brothers named Daniel and Joel, were the campers Trevor and I would grow closest to.

Kindri welcomed everyone and stated our two goals: 1) to grow a generation of young leaders for camp, and for Uganda, and 2) to have fun (of course!). Looking around the room, I was struck by  the fact that Trevor and I were the youngest here at camp (even though we didn't always look it). And so we got thrown into "camper" groups...and we were off! No time to think, just to make friends. I became a part of the Blue Team, and Alan, Julius, and Lydia led us to the field looking out at sparkling Lake Victoria and launched into introduction games. Looking around the circle at unfamiliar faces, I wondered what this week would be like. Who would I get to know? What experiences would we share? It wasn't long before we were laughing and learning names over boisterous singing and shouting.


The first day was a flurry of activity: Tie dye, trust games, lunch, challenge course, free time where I learned to play net ball, and worship time at night. Sometimes I felt excluded especially when my team would joke around, speaking Luganda, erupting in laughter, and I was the only one left out of the joke. I soon got very used to and tolerant of this. 
 




By evening I already felt a part of this community.Trevor had ended up on the Green Team with Joel and I with Daniel, all of us sat at a table together for meals, along with Andru and Shallom. We were lively, our chatter mixing with that of the other tables, enjoying each other's company and the meal before us. My heart had already latched on to this community, "I love camp" etched upon it. 


Worship time was beyond incredible. Cathy led us in praise songs and it was obvious she has a gift. 3 of the guys took their places behind an African drum, creating a pounding beat.

We soon caught on to their songs, some in English and others in Luganda. I was so taken by the way that these people worship, joyful hands clapping, arms raised, swaying, and moving in step together. This is how the Lord should be praised, this is how his people should rejoice in his name. Not merely standing and reading the words off a screen. Cathy got us jumping, dancing, twirling, and hugging, with all the beautiful voices harmonizing like easily woven thread. It was an honor to be worshipping with all these people, my heart felt so overjoyed. A row of boys in the back had formed a line and were stepping in sync, getting into the music that circled through the room. The only way I can describe this feeling is FULL.

That is when I know I am doing something God made me to do. I felt so completely full, and often I couldn't keep a grin off my face. Praising at camp was like being in a Lion King musical number except it was for Jesus, which makes it 10 times better. After our first time of worship, I couldn't believe we were going to get to do that twice a day, morning and evening. What a treat! . 
Kindri spoke that first night, and she shared with such passion, and she was able to connect with us very easily. I am so grateful that Kindri has found her calling here in Africa. This is what she is made to do. She has such a gift to love on and speak life into these youth, and they are so very blessed because of it.

The days are long at camp, and I found myself up late in the fluorescent bathed dining hall, teaching Spanish to Micheal. He was so curious to learn another language so I slowly taught and quizzed him on new words as Shallom strummed guitar in the background. I was overjoyed to get to know him more and hear about his love of art. I hadn't had to worry so much, I was still getting plenty of time with my big brothers. In fact, throughout the day Andru had checked in on "his Nangobi" (the Ugandan name they had given me, meaning kind) :) I went to bed that 1st night feeling perfectly exhausted from a great day. I have always loved the phrase, "God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good." Well here in Uganda, they add on another part at the end: "...and that's his nature, WOW." There is so much truth in that, and as I settled to sleep, I was amazed at his nature, and how much he provides for us.
The next few days were about each of us finding our niches. I grew to know my blue team, Trev latched on to his green gang, and Mom found friends in the orange team.



Dad was a floater, encouraging campers and staff alike as they learned to lead others, and of course pulling out his endless supply of silly games whenever there was the chance.

It is really fun watching members of my group go out of their comfort zone, contributing their own ideas, and taking risks to help the team complete a challenge.

Often times I had no idea what they were saying, but I got to observe as an outsider and the way people were flourishing was amazing to watch. It really was a strange balance for me, because technically I was a camper with the rest of my team, but I'd also been at the staff weekend and I was in the loop, and had been trained up as well. I would sometimes find myself holding back--I knew I could lead like the other staff members and bring more insight and clarity, but I was the youngest and I felt it wasn't my place to step in. It was definitely a learning experience for me, since I tend to want to lead, but I challenged myself to be a follower to let others grow. There was one activity in the challenge course where I was left in the dark. They all began plotting together in Luganda, unknown clips and phrases of the conversation bounced around me, and all I could do was follow their occasional instructions to me. Kindri was there and saw my dilemma and laughed at what we muzungus go through.

Free time was never enough. I played net ball (a popular game that is like a mixture between basketball and ultimate Frisbee), taught guitar or Spanish, learned Luganda, or bumped a volleyball around with a few others in the great field expanse behind the dining hall. Joel loves music and he loves borrowing my iPod each night. Part of me felt guilty because it meant he was off alone, isolating himself, but when I watched him with those ear buds in, he looked so happy and at peace. I remembered that many teenagers around here may not have a way to escape from the world and get lost in music, so I left him to it, happy to give him a gift that seemed so simple to me but might have meant the world to him.
During one of our morning small group times, we did an activity on the topic of our our morning speaker: Encouraging the Heart. Each of us had a slip of paper taped to our back, and forming meandering behind one another, we wrote an encouraging note to every person. I have done many exercises like this at other camps and I love the simplicity of it, but also how powerful it can be. You never know what a kind word will mean to someone. Well in the African culture, there is not a lot of emphasis on encouraging one another, so it was especially impactful for each of the campers to physically hold a piece of paper covered in words by others, affirming their unique character qualities, passions and strengths.

Kindri recounted later that so many youth came to her excitedly to show her their sheet of encouragement. One girl in mom's orange team told the group that no one in her family had ever said any of these things to her. After only 4 days, she said she felt like her camp "family" truly knew her. Wow. What an amazing experience for a 17 year old who has never been affirmed and told that she is of tremendous worth, that she is special. I take that for granted. I am sure this activity was a priceless gift to the campers, it was clear by how they "glowed" and said things like, "I am so full of happiness!" afterward, and wanted to show others their page. I know that that thin beige piece of paper will be something they treasure for many years to come.
Way too soon, the last day of camp arrived. Our time had been more incredible than words can describe. That somber tone was already seeping in, but I didn't want to allow it, I wanted to soak up every last moment of joy and friendship. Tonight's worship was unforgettable. I felt so surrounded by lifted voices, so wrapped by love and praise. I think we could all feel it was our last chance and so we all sang more passionately and wholeheartedly than usual and you could feel it in the room, it came straight from the pit of our souls. Then Kindri spoke on forgiveness and opened up a time for all of us to let go of bitterness that we may be holding on to. The room was filled with sobs and there was no denying that the holy spirit was in that place, and that hearts were being moved. The staff washed the campers' feet as a symbol of servant leadership, and others placed hands of prayer on those who were in tears...it was all so powerful.  


Afterwards in a turn of events, we held a traditional dance showcase. This afternoon, the 10 staff had taught us muzungu a tribal dance that would regularly be performed at a young boy's circumcision. We ran downstairs just before our turn and tied fresh banana leaves around one another, getting all fired up, and hurried into our positions.
The whole crowd was eager to watch us 5 muzungu (me, Trevor, mom, mad and Kindri) take on an African dance and most likely make great fools of ourselves (which is always the goal).


The African drums started pounding, and all the men jumped and high stepped to the beat, the banana leaves flapping. Kathy and Lydia stood on either side of mom and I, demonstrating for us how to step and move our hips. I smiled big as I attempted to follow their lead and listened to the hoots and hollers calling out, "Nangobi!" It was such fun to end the night with a bang with my staff family. Next, a group of campers performed a traditional tribal dance. They are so talented, and it is so evident that music and rhythm are hard wired into the Ugandan people!
Before the power went out (TIA--That Is Africa), we managed to watch most of the recap slideshow, reveling in all of our silly memories from the week. The energy was high and hearts fuller than ever. The guys started a huge bonfire and we gathered around the glowing flames lighting up the black night. I sat alone on the dirt and watched all my camp family, feeling somewhat detached, the firelight dancing on their faces, making the scene unreal. I wish it weren't real, I never want this to end. Memories of the week flashed through my mind. I listened to Andru pound the drum, I sat in Moureen's lap as Joel braided my hair, I laughed, I played, I sang. SO much happened today, and this week...and I am different, I am changed, I know that.
My eyes were heavy, but I wouldn't allow myself to go to bed when there was still time to be had with everyone. If I went to bed that would mean waking up to goodbyes, and I wanted to avoid facing that. So I sat under the stars and the bright moon laughing and playing games, with the pressing heat of the fire on my back. It was enjoyable in a melancholy kind of way because the reality of tomorrow pressed against us with the same intensity as the fire. By 2 am, I retreated to bed. I just don't want to leave...I fell asleep straight away feeling this in my heart.
With no alarm set the night before, we arose late and scurried to breakfast and I sat at the table bleary eyed, waking up slowly among great friends like family, wishing I weren't living the reality of this day. During our closing staff meeting, I broke into tears. Sarah, who I'd been with on the blue team this past week, took me in her arms. Each one of us expressed our gratitude for one another, and our Ugandan brothers and sisters continuously thanked our family for being here this week. I am so glad that we could be such a blessing to them, and that the tools Mom and Dad were able to teach them, were so deeply impacting. Shallom said in his passionate and excited way that he couldn't wait to go home and apply all that he had learned to be a great leader in his community. That is why we came, but we got so, so much more. I gained my trusted blue team friends, my staff big brothers and endless memories with them.


It was so neat to hear each one reflect on the week, but I just cried...it can't be over, it just can't. I leaned into Sarah and let my tears fall. I will be back, Uganda has made it's way into me.


And so came the time I dreaded most, we stood up to say goodbyes. I hugged each staff member, a tug on my heart every time we embraced and exchanged the word goodbye. I found Andru and sank into his comforting arms, and we sobbed. Andru has shown me so much love and care, and has found a place in my heart. I thank God for giving me the best big brother I could ask for. 
I walked out and waved my new friends down the dusty red road on a boda boda (motorcycle) and watched them zoom from my view. Who knows when I will see them again? The worst goodbyes are long and staggered, it's easier to do it all at once like ripping off a Band-Aid. Even through we had waved most of the campers off by late morning and sent Kindri off to catch a flight at the airport, 4 of the staff guys stuck around since they were in no rush to get home.


 

We shared another lunch together in an all too empty dinning hall and talked quietly. But still, nothing felt right. It was nice to spend more time with them, but it also hurt. Finally they had to go, we walked them out the Discovery Center gates, soft conversation penetrating my ears. I felt broken. All my tears were gone, and I tried to put on a smile. All 4 of us in our family were feeling such a heavy sadness. We gave them one last hug, each in turn. It wasn't adequate, but then again goodbyes never are, nor will they ever be. There is just never enough time. We shouted goodbyes as they disappeared around the bend, and walked back into an empty camp. 
This week has changed my life. God met us here, and we formed more than a team, we formed a family, and that is irreplaceable. This week is something that I'll never forget. My days will no longer be greeted by hugs and a "Wasuzotia" (good morning), spent laughing over meals at my favorite table, or filled with games and bonding with fellow campers, or spent with hands high in worship among my passionate, God-crazy Ugandan family.



Realizing that is so hard. And although this experience can never be re-created, I know somehow I'll be back, my heart is lodged here in a way that I cannot, nor do not want to change.  God is good, all the time...and all the time, God is good. And that's his nature,
                                                                                                                               WOW.

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